Brotherly Love
by Frosty858
Summary: "One day you will wear the crown, my son, but it does not make you King…" Several years after the Great Thaw, Elsa is the proud mother of two wonderful sons. The boys grow up as best friends, until a tragic accident leaves the elder brother hateful and bitter. He starts abusing his icy magic and his title as Crown Prince. Can Elsa save her family and kingdom, before it is too late?
1. Happily Ever After

**This story is a semi-sequel to Playing Dirty, and begins right where the epilogue (Chapter 31) left off. Some of the characters from the epilogue, namely Elsa's husband and son, will carry over. But this plot is COMPLETELY separate, and you DON'T have to read the first story in order to understand this one. **

**Please read and review! All opinions are welcome. **

**Chapter 1:**

It was a warm summer night in the fair Kingdom of Arendelle. Twelve gentle chimes emanated from the castle's clock tower, signifying the end of another day. All was silent as the people rested after yet another busy day of commerce and exchange. Aside from a few taverns and motels that still hummed with activity, everyone was peacefully asleep. Northern lights danced gracefully across the inky black sky, casting an elegant glow on the empty streets. The moon and stars smiled down upon a land that was undoubtedly strong and prosperous, yet still blessed with a rugged charm. Not a sound interrupted the calm, except for the wind rustling through the trees and the sound of water lapping against the boats docked in the harbor. Closed stores and empty windows lined the cobblestone streets, waiting for another morning to dawn.

Only a lone figure was wide awake, standing on the castle balcony. Queen Elsa of Arendelle smiled contentedly as she leaned over the railing and gazed across the beautiful, blessed land entrusted to her care. A single snowflake radiated from her fingertips. It swirled softly through the air, like a butterfly in a flowery meadow.

Elsa had recently celebrated her twenty-ninth birthday, but still retained all the youthful beauty she possessed on her Coronation Day. Tears welled in her eyes as she reflected upon the past few years. What a wild ride it had been! _What did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful life?_ As a child, she had surrendered herself to a life of complete and utter alienation. Many years ago, a little blond girl cried herself to sleep behind a locked door, convinced that she was a monster who had hurt her precious baby sister, and must be kept in eternal quarantine. Those were dark days.

But those days were mercifully and miraculously over. Now she had a family and a kingdom she loved so dearly. She was more blessed than she ever dared to hope or imagine. Anna was back by her side. She had gained a brother in Kristoff. She had learned to not only control her powers, but master them. They were no longer a liability, but an asset. Her reign had brought peace and prosperity to the kingdom, and the people were happy.

She also found a wonderful man to spend her life with. That was something she never even dared ponder in her wildest fantasies. Shortly after her twenty-fourth birthday, Elsa had been approached by King Harald of the Northern Isles, one of her deceased father's closest friends and partners in trade. He had implored her to accept his second son Fredrik as a suitor. The man was rude and belligerent at first, with the disastrous courtships of his past embittering him to the idea of marriage. But they soon warmed up to each other, and he proposed six months later.

Now in a few short weeks, she would become a mother for the second time.

But she would be lying to say that the past eight years had been without pain and difficulty. The full moon illuminated the enormous marble statue of her that dominated the town square. Elsa glanced at the statue with a sigh, and became melancholic as she reminisced upon the tumultuous adventure, fraught with heartbreak and sacrifice, which led to its creation. Then she glanced down at her own hands. Her wrists and palms still bore thick, heavy bands of scar tissue.

She gently traced a finger over the scars. There they would forever remain, as an eternal testament of the terrible pain and great love that had delivered the kingdom from unspeakable tragedy.

Elsa tilted back her head to gaze at the stars, wondering if her father could see her. If he would be proud of her. _I miss you so much, Papa. I will always be a good girl for you._ Brushing away a tear, she silently promised to protect and serve Arendelle with her dying breath.

Five years ago, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had come to Arendelle for revenge. He entered their famous September Harvest Festival disguised as a performer, and surreptitiously filled seven hundred drinks with a most foul and hideous poison. Elsa still shuddered at the memory of children shrieking in agony, clawing out their eyes and ripping open their throats as blood, bile and a thick black sludge dribbled from their mouths.

Hans revealed himself the next day, offering the antidote in exchange for her hand in marriage. He then proceeded to bombard her with an endless barrage of physical and verbal abuse in the next few days. Elsa went behind his back, discovering the cure to the mysterious poison through consultation with Grand Pabbie and countless hours of researching the library's every book on alchemy and natural science.

Unfortunately for her, the antidote would require the blood and marrow of an ice-bearer, willingly given. Nearly two liters of blood for seven hundred poison victims. It was a torturous journey to produce and deliver the antidote, and she nearly died dozens of times along the way. But watching its healing magic at work, restoring the people to perfect health and wholeness, repaid every moment of pain. The statue was commissioned two months later, as a tribute to her heroism in what would become known as the Great Sacrifice.

Hans had also become a wonderfully changed man by the journey's end. The two remained close friends, and even now, were in regular correspondence.

It still hurt to remember that cold obsidian knife being driven through her wrists, obliterating every nerve and tendon in its path, and cleaving the bone in two. There was still a chronic soreness and stiffness in both hands, and her wrists would never regain full mobility. But Elsa never regretted her loss. She would make the same decision if the opportunity ever arose again, although she hoped and prayed that it wouldn't. _Love will thaw_, she thought wordlessly. A gentle flurry of snowflakes spiraled through the air upon command. Elsa dissipated her creation with a smile. _And love will heal._

* * *

A soft pattering of footsteps echoed behind her. A little boy with tousled blonde hair and bright cerulean eyes stood in the doorway leading to the balcony. He clutched a light blue blanket in one hand and a teddy bear in the other, as he tried to creep forward inconspicuously. Finally, as he came within striking distance, little Prince Jon leapt at his mother. "Boo!"

Elsa's face lit up at the sight of her baby, as she pulled him up into a hug. "Hello snowflake."

The almost-four-year-old pouted. "Aw, no fair!"

She planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "Sorry darling, but Mommy isn't that easy to scare." _Please don't accept that as a challenge._

The toddler covered a yawn and buried his face in his mother's shoulder. "But Auntie Anna is really easy to scare." He suddenly became awake and energetic again, as he told his story. His chubby little hands gestured wildly as he proudly explained his triumph. "Yesterday me and Kristen hided under the dinner table and yelled BOO! Then Auntie Anna falled out of her chair and landed in the chocolate cake. And then Kai chased us everywhere. Kristen got caught, but he couldn't not catch me because I'm too fast. But then I hitted Kai's butt with a snowball, and Kristen got away too."

"That wasn't very nice, snowflake. You kids made quite a big mess," Elsa chided gently. "Sometimes you might think that Kai is mean and bossy, but he does these things because he cares about you."

But it was hard to stifle a grin at the memory of Anna screaming words a princess shouldn't know, as she leapt several meters into the air and face-planted into the dinner table. The entire floor was instantly covered with spilled food and broken plates. A chorus of childish giggling erupted as Jon and five-year-old Princess Kristen, Anna and Kristoff's daughter, emerged from underneath the tablecloth. The pint-sized miscreants made a mad dash for the door, with an irate Kai lumbering after them.

Jon crossed his little arms and gave a pouting puppy-dog face that was so reminiscent of young Anna. "But it was funny! I like pranks!"

"It was funny for you, but it wasn't funny for Kai. And it wasn't funny for the people who cleaned up the mess, or the people who were trying to enjoy their dinner." She kissed the little boy on the cheek and rubbed his back soothingly. "It's okay to have fun, but you don't want to upset anybody." He nodded in understanding.

Elsa slowly sat down and pulled him into her lap. "Why don't you kids prank Mommy and Auntie Anna instead? If you only do nice pranks that won't hurt anyone, we'll prank you back. How does that sound, snowflake?"

"Yes!" Jon screamed in excitement. "Prank war!" He bounced onto the sofa and began jumping around swinging his teddy bear like a sword, whacking everything in sight. "Hiyah! Take that, you stupid dragon!" Elsa caught him just as he was about to tumble into a bookcase.

"Mommy? Kai said I need to learn re-re-reponsability. What does that mean?"

She brushed back his platinum blonde locks. "_Responsibility_ can mean many different things. But I think Kai was reminding you to think before you act."

"So why doesn't Kristen need to learn responsablility?"

Elsa was tired, and it was too late to be giving life lessons. But these were things that had to be said. "She does too. Everyone needs to be responsible, snowflake. Everyone needs to think about how their actions might affect other people." But this simple inquiry had far deeper implications. As Arendelle's next monarch, Jon would always face higher demands and expectations than his cousin, even though she was older. Elsa knew that nothing was more aggravating to a child, and nothing was more apt to produce resentment, than perceived inequality or double standards perpetuated by adults.

But the crown prince seemed satisfied with this explanation. He wasn't quite aware of this discrepancy yet. It was far too early to taint his childhood with a lengthy monologue about the burdens of kingship. For now, it was best he remain in blissful naivete.

"It's getting late. Little princes should be in bed right now. Would you like to read a story or sing a song?"

Jon shook his head and sucked his thumb. "I can't sleep. Uncle Kristoff is snoring too loud."

She tousled his hair affectionately. "I told you not to eat so much sugar after dinner, sweetie. It keeps you awake."

"Then why are you awake?" The child's eyes glistened mischievously.

"Mommy couldn't sleep either. The baby was kicking." Elsa answered truthfully. "Here, I want you to feel this." She placed his hand over her swollen belly. A soft, rhythmic thump could be felt.

Jon looked up at her in confusion. "Why is the baby kicking me? Gerda said that kicking is not nice."

The Snow Queen smiled lovingly at her firstborn. "The baby is kicking because it wants to come out. He or she can't wait to meet you. Soon you'll have a little brother or sister to play with."

The child leaned forward and rested one cheek against his mother's stomach. "Hey, little brother or sister! Can you hear me? You're making Mommy fat! Hurry up and come out! Then we can ride our bikes and build a snowman and steal chocolate from Auntie Anna." Jon hesitated, then waved his hands around to create a sprinkle of snowflakes. "Look what I can do!"

Elsa couldn't hold back a chuckle at his adorable ramblings. He may have inherited her icy magic, but his effervescent personality had certainly come from Anna. "Snowflake, the baby will be here before you know it. You two are going to be best friends." She reached down to stroke his head, but Jon had fallen asleep. With a warm smile, she cradled him in her arms and carried him back to bed.

As she made her way back to the balcony in peace and quiet, Elsa was overcome with tender feelings towards her unborn child, whom she already loved every bit as much as she loved Jon. She would do everything to make sure that her babies would have a happier childhood than herself and Anna. "The sky's awake, little one. In a few weeks, you will begin a journey through this beautiful, mysterious thing called life. Mommy, Daddy, and Big Brother can't wait to meet you."

The baby gave a sharp little kick. Elsa smiled and continued speaking. "We love you more than you will ever know. You will never be shut out. Or shut in. You will never stand on either side of a locked door."

Then she realized that this child would face a different set of challenges than Jon would. Tears welled in her eyes as her mind flashed back to her childhood days. Tutors, foreign diplomats, and even the townspeople often belittled Anna for her clumsiness. For her awkwardness. For her rambling, incoherent manner of speech. For not being a proper princess. For not being as intellectually gifted as her sister. Though the younger girl had tried to act tough and maintain her ebullient façade, Elsa could always tell how deeply their snide remarks had wounded her.

"You will never be just a spare," she whispered. "No one will ever make you feel unimportant, or treat you with anything less than the love and respect you deserve. Mommy once knew a little girl who was told that she was just a spare. But she grew up to become the strongest, bravest, most loving person Arendelle has ever seen."

The tears began to fall. "If you or your brother grows up to be like Auntie Anna, then our family and our kingdom will have gained a wonderful new member."

The clock struck three. Northern lights continued to swirl across the tranquil sky. With a protective arm draped over her belly and a content smile on her face, Queen Elsa of Arendelle lay back on the sofa and drifted into a peaceful slumber.


	2. Prince Robert of Arendelle

**Chapter 2:**

A bloodcurdling scream rang throughout the entire kingdom, as a thick blanket of snow covered everything within several hundred meters of the castle. The townspeople all knew exactly what was happening. They made sure to dress warmly and be prepared for anything.

In the royal bedchambers, King Fredrik of Arendelle knelt at the bedside, his heart breaking as his wife cried out in agony. She was in pain and it was his fault. The entire castle was getting dangerously cold, and she had his hand locked in a bone-crushing grip. But he hardly noticed or cared.

"The head is crowning," Gerda called from the foot of the bed. "Keep pushing. You're almost there."

Elsa clenched her teeth to bite back a scream, as another wave of pain ripped through her lower abdomen. "You have to go! All of you!" she pleaded desperately. An explosion of ice filled the room. But no one moved a muscle.

"I'm completely out of control. You're going to get hurt!"

Fredrik took her face gently into his large, calloused hands. "You aren't doing this alone, my love. We're right here for you."

Elsa paused for a moment, then spoke in a tortured whisper, "Put me in the dungeons until it's over."

"No! Anna shouted. "Do you even hear what you're saying? You are NOT giving birth in the dungeons! You are NEVER getting locked up again!"

Kristoff calmed her down quietly. "It's okay, feisty-pants. She doesn't really mean it."

"No, I'm serious." Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I'm going to freeze Arendelle again."

Fredrik leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. "And you'll know exactly how to unfreeze it."

The contractions were growing in frequency and strength. Elsa clung to her husband and let out a piercing scream. "Please, make it stop!"

Fredrik patted her soothingly on the back. "You're doing great, baby. You're the strongest person I know." His fingers brushed over the ugly scars on her wrist. _You've been through worse, _he thought sadly_. And you've got the marks to prove it._

He still winced when he thought of what she went through five years ago. Elsa had been through more pain than anyone should endure in a thousand lifetimes, and he certainly hadn't helped. Sometimes Fredrik still struggled to forgive himself for how he behaved in the early stages of their courtship. He had been so rude and selfish.

Before long, he became completely enamored with her kindness and intelligence, and not just her beauty. Despite being thirteen years his junior, she was wise and mature beyond her years. But she had certainly been a hard nut to crack. Elsa wouldn't even let him kiss her until they were married, and she wasn't ready to consummate their marriage until several months after the wedding. She was slow to open up, and it hadn't been easy to break the ice.

However, it wasn't hard to see that she truly had an infinite capacity for love. There was an endearing sweetness to her character that he very distinctly observed from how she interacted with others. There was no better example than the Great Sacrifice. The poor girl had willingly faced death and mortal injury no fewer than a dozen times, to save seven hundred people whose names and faces she hardly knew.

Behind the castle walls, she showed the same compassion and thoughtfulness. Fredrik reminisced upon the bygone days before their marriage. His heart melted as he recalled how she so patiently spoke to those pigheaded advisors, never forcing them into compliance, but instead winning them over with reason and diplomacy. He thought of how Elsa used to work herself ragged into the late hours of the night, going far beyond the call of duty and necessity to make Arendelle a wonderful place to live. She had developed chronic arthritis from being skewered through the wrists. It became impossible for her to hold a pen for more than a few hours at a time, without both hands becoming paralyzed in excruciating pain. But she never forsook her duties. At least once a month, he would see Kai dragging Elsa out of her study and into bed, as she lay slumped over the desk with tears in both eyes and ice wrapped around her swollen, bloodied knuckles. It was a heartrending scene.

"Please, I'm fine! That document is very important!" she had tried to insist, though she could hardly breathe through the pain.

"Nonsense." Kai pulled a nightgown over her head and tossed her onto the mattress. "Your health comes first."

But it was the playful, childlike Elsa that he loved best. Fredrik grinned ear to ear as he thought back to the moment he truly fell in love with her.

* * *

_Four years ago (and approx. 9 months after the events of Playing Dirty)…_

The sun was radiant in the immaculately cloudless June sky. School was out, giving way to three months of fun and frolicking. "Frostyland" was packed with children and families every single day from dawn to dusk. People never tired of the aesthetic marvel or the flawless engineering that made up the icy amusement park. It was also a convenient getaway from the sometimes oppressive summer heat.

Small wooden sailboats covered the fjords under the afternoon sun. The kingdom had extensive beaches and coastlines, and water sports were a popular recreational activity. Others sunbathed on the warm white sand or fished along the docks. It was a happy, laid-back time of the year.

But the highlight of the summer season would always be Arendelle's famous county fair, which would span the entire month of June. Since the gates had opened, the royal family could commonly be found mingling with the townspeople. Anna was practically one of the children, as she would go crazy with delight at the simplest things. Elsa and Kristoff preferred to maintain a low profile, and were cautious about drawing attention in public.

This time, Anna was determined to force her sister out of her comfort zone. She had gone behind Elsa's back and signed her up to be the target in sponge-throwing at the fair. The older girl was horrified at first, but relented after much persuasion (and even more puppy-dog faces).

Soon enough, Elsa was stationed in a painted wooden stall with her head poking out a hole. Her hair and clothes were thoroughly soaked from being hit by wet sponges throughout the entire day, but she was all smiles.

A sandy-haired boy wearing a red baseball cap and a cocky smirk stepped forward eagerly. Elsa guessed he was six or seven years old. "Hey Frosty! You know I'm going to win, right? I never miss!" His voice was full of bravado, as he smashed a sponge into her face at point-blank range.

Elsa brushed back her sopping hair and gave him a little smile. "If you make all five throws, you get that nice jar of Swiss chocolate over there."

The boy puffed out his chest. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Just give it to me right now." He was comically ostentatious as he pranced into line. "Out of my way. The king of sponges is here!" He roughly pushed other children aside as he moved towards the end of the line. The crowd was noisy, but she could hear his loud, shrill voice continuously mocking other people for missed throws. Finally it was his turn.

"I'm gonna knock your head off, Frosty!" He curled back his arm and performed an incredibly pretentious wind-up that took almost an entire minute.

One of the fair workers tapped his foot impatiently. "Come on, buddy. There are other people waiting."

The boy released the sponge. It missed by about five feet.

Someone standing in line snickered under his breath, "Wow kid, you really suck."

The child started to become incredibly defensive. "No! Wait! That wasn't my super awesome power throw. Watch this!"

The people standing in line were getting irritated. He was taking much longer than he should've, and was wasting everyone's time. The second throw spectacularly failed as well.

A teenager snorted derisively. "I think Frosty's falling asleep over there!"

The youngster was getting more and more incensed. The third and fourth sponges also missed by a comfortable margin. More skeptical jeers arose from the people standing behind him.

"No fair!" he screamed hysterically. He kicked the water bucket over. His face was scrunched up with anger. The boy then threw his hat onto the ground and stomped on it viciously, grinding the red fabric into the dirt.

The worker was also getting irritated, "Hey kid, are you gonna keep playing? If not, you need to step aside so that other people can have their turn."

One of the guards happened to be walking by behind Elsa. "Don't you wish you'd let this kid die?" he mumbled out the corner of his mouth.

The boy was on his last sponge, and was incredibly worked up at this point. Everyone was fed up and rooting for him to fail. He did a wild throw that missed by nearly ten feet.

"Next," the worker prepared some sponges for the next person in line.

"No fair! I need another turn!" he screamed hysterically. He refused to budge.

"You already had your turn. There are other people waiting. Go to the end of the line if you want to play again."

The child grabbed several more sponges and wildly chucked them, but didn't come close. Finally, several workers managed to drag him, kicking and screaming unintelligibly, out of the way. He managed to break free for one moment, and hurled a big handful of mud.

This time, he was right on target.

_Some time later…_

Elsa wiped the mud from her face as she climbed out of the sponge-throwing stall. Anna would take over for the next few minutes, as she went to take care of some business. Her bright sapphire eyes flitted over the crowd, until she found what she was looking for. Sitting alone on a bench, with his head lowered and tears running down his reddened cheeks, was the boastful boy. He looked so forlorn and miserable, and her heart ached.

The child had shown abysmal sportsmanship, and one could certainly say that it was a fitting comeuppance. But the little tyke had humiliated himself in public, and had been mocked and reviled by hundreds of people in a moment of vulnerability. That was punishment enough. Now was the time for comfort and nurture, not for judgment and scolding. She sat a few feet away from him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

The child glanced sideways and brushed away a tear. "You're here to tell me that I suck, right?" he mumbled miserably.

"No, I'm here to return this." Elsa pulled out the red baseball cap he had been wearing earlier, and removed every fleck of dirt and mud with a handful of snow. The boy tentatively reached out and took it back.

"I know… I suck."

"You don't suck. Nobody's perfect. You just had some bad luck."

The pain and anger receded from his eyes, as he scooted closer to her. "Why did those people have to be so mean?" The tears began welling again at the memory. He buried his face into her dress and sobbed.

Elsa patted him on the hand comfortingly. "It was wrong for them to say those things. Nobody should be made fun of when they've tried their best."

A few minutes passed. When the child began to calm down, she decided that it was a good time to drop a gentle hint that he wasn't completely innocent either.

"That little blonde boy was also really hurt when you called him a _fat ugly loser_."

"But I was only joking."

"It's okay to joke. But we have to know when to stop. If someone gets upset, then it isn't funny anymore."

He stopped crying at this point, as he looked at her wide-eyed. "But I really am good at sponge-throwing. I just don't know what happened today."

"I believe you." She reached into her pocket to pull out a single wrapped chocolate truffle, and laid it in his palm. "The fair is still open tomorrow. Can we all try to have better sportsmanship next time? No more name-calling?"

A smile flickered across his tearstained eyes, as he nodded. "Thanks Frosty… and I'm sorry about the mud."

Elsa smiled and twirled her fingers to return her ice dress to its original pristine state. "Don't worry about that, sweetie."

* * *

_Back to the present_

Crown Prince Jon of Arendelle screamed and sobbed with terror as his mother's cries tore through the entire castle. The four year-old struggled viciously to reach the door behind which she writhed in unspeakable agony. But Kai held him back gently but firmly.

"Let me in! Let me in! Mommy's going to die!" Icy tears poured down his cheeks.

The older man hugged the little boy tightly to his chest, and spoke in a grandfatherly demeanor. "Mommy isn't going to die. She's just having a baby. Soon you'll be a big brother."

Five year-old Kristen was calmer, but visibly distraught as well. "But I heard that mommies can die when having babies."

Kai bit his lip and silently cursed his predicament. How on earth had he managed to land into this conversation? He chose his words carefully, making sure to convey an accurate message without scaring the children. "It's true. People can die when giving birth. But it doesn't happen very much." He knelt down and wrapped an arm around each child. "Your mommies are the two strongest, bravest women Arendelle has ever seen. They have made it through far more difficult situations. I am confident that everything will be fine."

Just as abruptly as it started, the ice thawed and the warmth of summer flooded back into the castle. All was calm and quiet. Kai smiled to himself. _Well done, Elsa. I never doubted you for a moment._

A door opened. Fredrik entered the room, beaming from ear to ear. "Daddy?" Jon sucked his thumb nervously and looked up at his father with wide, imploring eyes. "Is Mommy okay?"

Fredrik rumpled his platinum blonde hair affectionately. "Of course, kiddo. Now let's go see Mommy. She has a wonderful surprise for you." Father and son stepped into the hallway and up the spiral staircase hand-in-hand. Jon was practically quivering with excitement at the "wonderful surprise" that awaited him.

Finally, they made it to the royal bedchambers. "Mommy!" Jon threw open the door and bounded inside. His mother sat upright in bed, covered in sweat and looking utterly exhausted. Her normally pristine hair a mess, and clung to her face in sopping tendrils. But Jon had never seen her so happy.

"Come, snowflake," she smiled softly and beckoned him forward. "I want you to meet someone very special."

Jon clambered onto the bed and snuggled next to his mother. In her arms was a bundle of blankets. He carefully leaned in and took a closer took. A tiny pink face peeked out at him with wide aqua eyes.

Elsa patted him lovingly on the back. "This is your brother, Robert."

"He's so small," Jon commented innocently.

Elsa laughed and kissed him gently. "You used to be this small too, snowflake."

Jon scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "Will he get bigger, so I can play with him?"

His mother nodded. "Of course, snowflake. The two of you will be the best of friends. But you will always be his big brother." Elsa beamed at her firstborn. "Would you like to hold him?" she carefully passed the bundle to Jon.

The four year-old stared in wonder at the beautiful, wide-eyed baby, and the baby stared back. As they locked eyes, Jon reached gently into the bundle of blankets and found one of Robert's hands. The chubby little fingers wrapped themselves around his thumb. Beneath the warm touch, the older boy's heart overflowed with affection. He had found someone he would forever love and protect. For as long as they both lived, his baby brother would never be lonely or scared. Jon knew he had found his best friend for life. He began to sing softly.

_Hello little baby, you're a prince just like me,_

_Bet you're thinking maybe, that's a pretty cool thing to be._

_But soon you'll see that everyone expects a lot from you,_

_They say that there are things that princes should and shouldn't do._

_But you and me, we… we know better…_


	3. What Brothers are For

**Poor Elsa… It's her day off, and she spends it getting bombarded with wet sponges (and mud), and giving life lessons. Can't Frosty ever catch a break?**

**Whoa, has it been 1 year already since Frozen came out?**

**Thank you so much to all who are reading and reviewing. Now prepare yourselves for a massive inundation of fluff in Chapter 3, and the next few chapters as well.**

**Without further ado, Chapter 3:**

Nearly one year had passed since Prince Robert of Arendelle came into the world. The royal family was abuzz with excitement, as they prepared to celebrate the birthday of their youngest—and most doted-on—member.

No one was more excited than his brother and cousin, who were determined to make the day a most memorable one. The older children were determined to teach him how to walk before the day was over.

Baby Robert cooed happily and waved his chubby little arms in the air, as six year-old Kristen gently set him on his feet. She held him upright in a standing position, giving him enough autonomy but making sure he wouldn't topple over.

Five year-old Jon was situated on the other side of the room, squatting on the carpet with his arms held out. Kristen smiled warmly at the infant and patted his soft, wispy hair. "Come on Robbie, go to Big Brother!" She slowly loosened her hold.

The baby's sea-green eyes were wide and bright. _Big Brother_. Little Robert had no idea what those words meant. But some mysterious intuition in his infant brain compelled him forward. Buried deep within the recesses of his subconscious were vague memories of those bright sapphire eyes, glistening with love and tenderness, as they welcomed him into the world twelve months ago. That musical voice and those gentle hands that had soothed him to sleep night after night in the castle nursery, beneath the glow of Northern lights. Those strong, protective arms that would always be wide open to him.

The toddler took a few wobbly steps and fell onto his bottom. He clambered precariously back to his feet. Somehow he knew he had a special connection to that blonde-haired boy on the other side of the room, and he was determined to cement that connection.

"Come on Robbie, you can do it!" Jon called out in encouragement.

Soon he was on the floor again. With each attempt, the infant came closer to reaching his goal. But he couldn't even make it halfway across the room. Fear began to accumulate in his tiny little body. What if he never learned to walk? What if his Big Brother stopped loving him, because he could never be good enough? Baby Robert threw himself onto the soft carpet in a fit of frustration and burst into noisy tears.

"Don't cry, Robbie!" Jon rushed forward and pulled his baby brother into a hug. But Robert was crying far too loudly to hear a thing. The older boy looked nervously at his cousin, but she seemed equally bewildered. Ice began to creep up the walls of the room, at the Snow Prince's discomfort.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and the three children were supposed to be napping. They had sneaked out of bed and into the playroom with no supervision. Jon and Kristen exchanged uneasy glances. The older children would certainly face an emphatic scolding if they were found out. With Robert's screams intensifying, it was more than likely that their clandestine operation would soon be uncovered.

"Look, Robbie! Watch this!" Jon waved his fingers to create a sprinkle of snowflakes in the air. The crown prince knew he wasn't supposed to perform his magic in front of Robert outside of his mother's supervision. But surely the situation warranted an exception.

As a single snowflake landed on his button-nose, the baby stopped crying. He gaped in wonder at the magical apparition, then burst into a fit of giggles. He flailed his chubby little hands through the air, trying to catch more snowflakes as they fell. The ice began to thaw.

* * *

It was lunchtime, and the children were situated at the dining table. Their parents were busy attending some meetings, which left the servants and maids in charge of the young royals. Gerda was trying unsuccessfully to feed a very fussy Robert, who whined and pouted and squirmed incessantly. Amorphous blobs of chewed-up food, of varying colors and consistencies, were splattered randomly across the tabletop and floor.

The youngest prince of Arendelle puckered his lips and spat an enormous glob of mashed peas into Gerda's face. The portly older woman sighed and wiped her face clean of the gooey projectile. "Just like your Auntie Anna used to be," she said with a half-amused, half-exasperated smile.

"Was Mommy a picky eater?" Jon inquired.

Gerda laughed. "Your Mommy was a very well-behaved baby. She would eat whatever was put in front of her. Except for asparagus. Mommy would freeze the entire castle every time we tried to feed her asparagus."

"I hate asparagus too." Kristen reported proudly. "Auntie Elsa and Uncle Fredrik should ban it from Arendelle."

_Splat!_ A loud squelching sound echoed resonantly throughout the dining hall, as another mouthful of food landed squarely on Gerda's nose. "Robert!" she exclaimed.

"Can I try feeding him?" Jon asked, standing up from his chair.

"Here you go," Gerda rubbed her forehead and brushed back her graying hair with a weary sigh. She gestured weakly at small bowl of baby food sitting on the table. "I'm completely out of ideas."

Jon dipped the little spoon into the greenish-yellow mush that had been the major source of conflict and contention for the past hour. "Hey Robbie," his voice was slow and soft. "I know you don't like yucky vegetables, but you've gotta eat. Then you'll grow up big and strong, so you can play with us. And you can't keep spitting, because Mommy doesn't like it when you do that." Robert stopped fussing as he stared at Jon with big wide eyes.

The older boy then tried the one thing he knew could always successfully pacify his little brother. He swirled his hands about to create a glowing blue ball of light that shimmered ethereally. The baby's tiny mouth fell open and his eyes remained transfixed on the mystical phenomenon. Jon smoothly slid the spoonful of mashed peas into Robert's agape mouth. The pasty green sludge was swallowed with no resistance.

* * *

Late in the night, a storm raged across the murky October sky. Little Prince Robert screamed in terror as erratic flashes of lightning and booms of thunder erupted against the windows of the castle nursery. Everyone was exhausted and the castle was utterly devoid of activity, but his cries would not go unnoticed. The keen ears of his big brother were forever receptive to the slightest sign of distress in the infant.

Jon carefully lifted Robert from his cradle and hugged him close to his chest. "Don't be scared, Robbie. It's only a little thunder."

Another cacophonous explosion of thunder shook the entire room, eliciting a soft whimper from Baby Robert. The terrified infant buried his face into his brother's nightshirt. "You're okay Robbie, I've got you." Jon brushed back the wispy bangs and planted a little kiss on the baby's forehead. "I'm always here for you. That's what brothers are for."

That simple but heartwarming profession of fraternal love placated the infant. The younger boy stopped crying and cooed contentedly in the embrace of his big brother. Jon smiled down at the bundle of warmth in his arms, and twirled his fingers through the air to create a light dusting of snowflakes. The dainty crystals drifted down from the ceiling and enveloped the boys in a microcosmic winter wonderland. Robert emitted a high-pitched squeal of laughter. Big Brother had an endless repertoire of charms that never ceased to amaze and delight him. But nothing enraptured the youngest prince more than that soothing voice and those bright blue eyes that possessed an almost magical ability to mollify his unspoken fears, assuage his uncertainties, and calm the storm within. That was the greatest magic of all.

The storm gradually came to a halt. The clouds of darkness and uncertainty dissipated into the night, giving way to tranquil skies and serene minds. Beneath the gentle caress of the full moon, the brothers happily drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

**Apologies for a short chapter! The next ones will be a little longer :)**


	4. Baby Steps

**Very sorry for the delay in releasing Chapter 4! I just watched Frozen for the 20****th**** time last night, and it dawned on me that I should update soon. Thank you all for your support. Please continue to read and review!**

**Chapter 4:**

Elsa sat up straight in her chair and tried to suppress the irritation from her voice, as she addressed the Weselton delegate. "What kind of precedent would we be setting if we comply with your demands? Show the world we can tolerate an unprovoked attack against our people, an act of _terrorism_, and resume commercial relations as if nothing happened?"

Lord Herman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The young blonde-haired woman possessed one of the brightest minds in politics and statecraft, as did her consort. But her strongest attribute was the ability to rule by force of personality. Everyone knew that Queen Elsa was the nicest, warmest, gentlest person ever. But she had the uncanny ability to enrapture and intimidate an audience, to command respect, without having to raise her voice or display the slightest sign of aggression. That was her true magic.

She continued in a steady, even tone. "Please recall that we have been willing to compromise in the past. Until the invasion five years ago, we've invited King Magnus to Arendelle several times to negotiate a lift on the dissolution. The people of Weselton should not suffer because of one man's ignorance, and furthermore, one could reasonably posit that the absurdities surrounding my coronation had put him in a state of temporary insanity. But the Duke has simply gone too far this time. There is nothing temporary about the man's insanity. I'm sorry, but we cannot entertain further talks of reconciliation."

"Your Majesty, I plead with you to reconsider. I am here today because I know that you are a kind and merciful queen. Like the rest of the continent, I know what happened six years ago. There is not an educated person on the planet who is ignorant to the Great Sacrifice. You would give your life for the children of Arendelle. What about the children of Weselton? Is there any difference between the two, aside from the superficial veneer of national origin? Could you let _our_ children live in want, just to perpetuate an antiquated grudge and ultimatum?"

King Fredrik silenced him with an icy glare. "Your emotional blackmail will get you nowhere. Forgiveness is not a lack of consequences, and compassion is not an unconditional tolerance for bad behavior. This matter will not be discussed further. Kai, will you please escort Lord Herman to his room?"

The Weselton dignitary was now visibly frazzled, as his chances of negotiating a desirable outcome grew alarmingly dim. He spoke in a frenzied tone. "Your Majesty, before we adjourn our talks, allow me to—"

"Permission denied. You've said enough." Fredrik cut him off curtly.

Lord Herman glared at him crossly. "There is no need for such rudeness, my king. Any political dissension that may exist between our kingdoms ought not to preclude common courtesy on a personal level. I was merely going to say that I had the pleasure of sharing a few words with little Prince Jon earlier in the day." Lord Herman smiled broadly. "Such a delightful lad, and so much poise and maturity for a child so young. His communication skills are astounding, too. How old is he, may I ask?"

Elsa softened at these words, as her eyes filled with pride and affection. "Our little Jon is five years old. But his math and reading skills are on par with a child of seven. He _is_ very clever, and such a sweet little boy too."

The visiting dignitary continued, "We had a delightful conversation this morning at breakfast. He was telling me all about Arendelle's Yuletide festival next month. It's his favorite time of the year, isn't it?"

Elsa smiled broadly and nodded. "He absolutely loves the Christmas season."

Lord Herman patted her affectionately on the shoulder. "As handsome as his father, as bright as his mother, and as sweet as his aunt. He will make a fine king one day." The pompous man adjusted his wig and stroked his mustache, before continuing in a saccharine tone, "All this talk about Christmas has really put me in a festive mood, I must say. It's a magical time of the year, not just for the children. A time to let peace and goodwill prevail over all the tumult and strife of daily living, as we commemorate the birth of our Lord and all the implications of his life and death. But I digress. Would our dear little Jon fancy a bicycle for Christmas this year? I intended to purchase it for my nephew, but he already has one. Perhaps you would like to have a look?" Lord Herman gave a quick nod to one of his bodyguards, and the man bowed and left the room.

A few minutes later, he was back with a child-sized bicycle and a flat, rectangular box the size of a dinner platter.

Lord Herman caressed the bicycle frame with a pudgy finger. "It's the latest model, and it cost a fortune. I'm sure Jon will love it. Robert too, once he's older. And as for you, Your Majesties, I have likewise prepared a gift tailored to your likings and aptitudes." He placed the leatherbound box neatly on the tabletop, and lifted the lid to reveal magnificent chess set.

With eyes shining and fingers trembling, Lord Herman stroked the checkered surface of the board reverently. "Every piece is solid gold. The board is carved of the finest white marble. Truly a beautiful work of art. Almost as beautiful as you, snowflake." With a smug little smile, he reached out a hand to pinch Elsa on the cheek, until an enraged Fredrik shoved him back. He wrapped a protective arm around his wife and glared menacingly at the shorter man.

"My sources tell me that in the days of your courtship, your camaraderie was cemented through a game of chess. I am also privy to the knowledge that your marriage was propositioned not with a ring, but with a chess set made of Venetian glass. My queen, is it not true that you have been undefeated in chess since you were fifteen years old?" Elsa nodded shyly.

Fredrik spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. "Your timing is impeccable, Lord Herman. Is it merely a coincidence that you chose to bring these gifts just two weeks before the big trade summit in Copenhagen?"

Elsa lifted the chess set and shifted it between her hands. Then she picked up a few pieces and tossed them up and down a few inches. "This seems awfully insubstantial for something made of solid gold. I thought it'd be at least three times heavier." Without another word, she seized a large iron paperweight in one hand, and slammed it into the pieces.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lord Herman screamed.

Elsa calmly lifted the paperweight. There was not a dent or scratch on the chess pieces. "Zero yield, zero malleability. This isn't gold at all. And this _state-of-the-art_ bike that cost you a fortune? You probably just pulled it out of the dump."

To prove her point, she waved a hand to conjure a snowy humanoid to ride the bike. The frame creaked loudly and the bicycle bobbed side to side. The snow-person pedaled furiously, but the wheels continued to spin at a painfully laborious and inefficient pace.

"The transmission is garbage. The gear ratio is not at all conducive to maximization of stability and torque. The beams of the frame are positioned to sustain only seventy-five percent maximum axial load. Finally, the kingpin inclination ought to be reduced by at least half a radian, to achieve a reasonable turn radius. This model is completely out of date. "

Lord Herman opened his mouth wordlessly to try and refute her stinging indictment of his phony gifts. But Fredrik would not give him the chance. He had neither the patience nor the time to indulge another moment. Fredrik slammed his massive fists on the table with a deafening crack.

"You are so full of shit! Every time there's a big trade summit coming up, you weasel your way into Arendelle with some sob story about hungry children and a big pile of trash that you call peace offerings! It's a shame. Lies and sycophancy have always been your area of expertise. But you aren't even good at that. Now get the fuck out of Arendelle. If you or your bastard Duke of Weaseltown ever show your faces again—"

Elsa grabbed her husband by the arm. "Fredrik, language!" The King of Arendelle was a righteous and respectable man, but he had a most fearsome temper. Most of the townspeople carried a healthy fear of him, and could not speak to him with the same closeness and comfort as they could with Elsa.

Fredrik ignored her and flipped the table. "I said, get the fuck out of here!"

* * *

No sooner had the Weasel and his personal attendants scurried out of the throne room, did the doors burst open again. It was Kristen, followed by Jon holding Robert in his arms. The older children began babbling excitedly all at once, blurting a rapid monologue of unintelligible nonsense.

Fredrik was still slightly annoyed. "Kids, you know you aren't supposed to come in here during meetings."

Elsa patted him on the shoulder. "It's not a problem. I'm sure Jon and Kristen have something important to share." Then she mumbled under her breath, "More important than anything Lord Herman has to say."

"Robbie can walk!" Jon reported proudly. The crown prince was trembling with excitement. He carefully set the baby on his feet, then took ten bouncy steps in the opposite direction, before kneeling down and holding out his arms. "Over here, Robbie!"

Nothing happened for a minute. Baby Robert stared aimlessly at the floor with his wide sea-green eyes. All was silent.

Jon clapped his hands. "Come on, Robbie! Show Mommy and Daddy what you can do!"

That did the trick. The youngest prince of Arendelle lifted a pudgy little foot into the air, and took one wobbly step forward.

Jon threw a small flurry of snowflakes into the air. "That's it! Keep going!"

Step by step, little by little, Robert waddled across the room and into the open arms of Big Brother. Jon lifted him high into the air, and the baby screamed and giggled with delight.

But more than one milestone would be reached on that momentous day. Amidst all the fanfare and adulation, all the frenzied activity transpiring in his infant brain as Robert absorbed and tried to make sense of all the random, disjointed, multifarious details of his environment, there was one vital piece of information that stood out above the rest. Of all the sights and sounds and smells that inundated his mind every day, one had become a permanent and integral part of his consciousness. Little Prince Robert opened his tiny mouth to utter his first word. A single, unmistakable sound.

"Jon."

Tears welled in the older boy's eyes and pride blossomed in his heart. Jon pulled Robert close to his chest and hugged him tighter.

Thirteen months ago, a powerful, inexplicable bond had been formed between two boys who were brothers by birth but friends by choice. Today, it became stronger than ever.

**Robert can talk AND walk! Courtesy of Big Brother. **


	5. We Know Better

**Welcome to Chapter 5! Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I will be out of town for winter break, so there won't be any chapters posted for the next 2 weeks. But I promise I will resume regular updates as soon as I get back!**

**Chapter 5 is in the spirit of 'We Know Better.' Jon teaching Robert how to be a prince. **

_2 years later… _

"Come on, Robbie! If we hurry, we can buy some cookies and ice cream before the line gets too long!" Seven year-old Jon and three year-old Robert raced down the cobblestone street hand-in-hand. The boys had each been given a small quantity of money to purchase some treats. Kai, Gerda, and two guards followed them at a slight distance, keeping a close watch. Everyone in Arendelle absolutely loved the two little princes, who could often be found mingling in candy stores and engaging people in friendly conversations.

"Here we are!" Jon and Robert skidded to a halt in front of a rustic-looking bakery. An older couple, in their late sixties or early seventies, stood behind the counter.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Dahl." Jon smiled broadly and spoke in his sweetest tone. He nudged at Robert to follow suit. But the younger boy was hardly paying attention. He was bouncing up and down, squealing with glee as a red-haired teenage girl knelt down to offer him a bite-sized sample of chocolate cake.

Jon eagerly hopped forward to help himself to a piece as well. "Thank you, Isabella." He spoke to address the bakers' sixteen year-old granddaughter.

Isabella curtsied back. "My pleasure, Your Highnesses." She reached down to pat Robert on the head.

Jon licked his fingers clean. "Did you know that Mommy eats soooo much chocolate? Yesterday there was no more chocolate in the castle, and Mommy was acting like such a baby. She was lying in bed all day being sad. Then Auntie Anna was all like, _Elsa, grow up! You were getting fat from eating too much chocolate anyways._" His blue eyes were wide and bright, and his hands gestured excitedly as he told the tale.

"Who's Elsa?" Robert asked curiously.

Jon looked at him strangely. "Mommy, of course."

The younger boy shoved another bite of cake into his mouth. "But Mommy's name is Frosty."

Mrs. Dahl smiled at his adorable inquiries, as she knelt down to brush his golden locks behind his ears. The toddler's innocence was too cute to be real. "Sweetie, Mommy's real name is Elsa. But a lot of people call her Frosty for fun, because she has ice powers. In fact, our Isabella used to do that all the time."

Isabella blushed slightly at the mention. "Everybody calls her Frosty, until they're about thirteen or fourteen years old. That's when you're a little too old to do that. Then you have to call her Your Majesty."

Robert licked his chocolate-covered hands. "Why does Mommy have so much names?"

"She doesn't." Isabella reached down with a napkin to wipe a smudge of chocolate from Robert's nose. "Mommy's name is Elsa. Frosty is her _nickname_, and Your Majesty is her _title_."

The conversation suddenly took an awkward and uncomfortable turn. "What does _fuck_ mean?" Jon asked.

Mrs. Dahl gasped. "Prince Jon, where did you hear such a thing?"

Robert piped up. "Daddy!"

The adults don't know whether to burst out laughing, or faint in horror and embarrassment. Finally, Mr. Dahl managed to find his voice again. "Where did Daddy say that word?"

Robert sucked his chocolate-covered thumb and squeezed his teddy bear. "In the big room with blue floor."

"Mommy and Daddy were meeting the Duke of Weaseltown yesterday," Jon explained. "Daddy was really mad. He was all like—" Jon scrunched up his face and tried to imitate Fredrik's booming roar. "_I told you a million times not to come back, you lying, thieving piece of shit! You have imposed your presence on our family and our kingdom for the last time. Get the fuck out Arendelle!_ The Duke of Weaseltown tried to keep talking, but Daddy screamed _I said, get the fuck out of Arendelle! _a hundred more times. Then Daddy flipped the table, and the Duke ran away really scared. Mommy was all like, _Fredrik, watch your language!_"

The adults exchanged uneasy glances. They were certainly not supposed to be privy to such information. But this revelation certainly didn't surprise them. King Fredrik was a good man, but his explosive temper was legendary. He had absolutely zero tolerance for dishonesty or stupidity, and would lash out with the strength of ten men whenever confronted with such individuals. Only Elsa could successfully pacify his wrath.

Robert tugged lightly at Jon's sleeve. "Why Daddy hate the Dude of Weaselton so much? I think he's funny! He look like a chicken."

"Because the _Duke_ is a bad man. Mommy says he pretends to be nice, so he can steal from us," Jon explained

Robert looked up at Isabella with big wide eyes. "So what does _fuck_ mean?"

Mr. Dahl rumpled his sandy blonde hair affectionately. "It's a word that only adults should use, when dealing with bad people. Now don't let Mommy hear you using such language."

_Ding!_ The gentle chime of a silver bell was heard, indicating that a batch of cookies was finished. Little Robert was practically salivating in anticipation. Jon laid a few copper coins on the counter, and wrapped a neat stack of warm, freshly-baked cookies in a bundle of napkins.

"Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Dahl! Bye, Isabella! See you on Friday!" The boys tripped over their feet as they dashed out the door, giggling with glee. Jon grabbed Robert's pudgy little hand. "Come on, Robbie! Let's go get some ice cream!"

* * *

Jon and Robert made a mad dash through the streets, weaving through the crowds. They sprinted forward in single-minded impatience, ignoring Kai's shouts for them to slow down.

"Here we are!" The boys hunched over to catch their breaths as they arrived at their favorite ice cream shop. But their excitement began to wither at the sight of a rather long line that had formed.

People bowed and stepped aside, offering the little princes immediate access to the ice cream counter. Robert began to push forward eagerly, but Jon held him back. "No, Robbie. We need to wait in line, like everybody else."

"But why?" Tears of heartbreak and betrayal began to well up in his three year-old eyes.

Jon sighed. He was so tempted to accept the offer, and dance flauntingly to the front of the line. But for as long as he could remember, his mother had always reminded him firmly but gently that their royal status did not exempt them from courtesy and civility.

"You know Robbie, I once threw a big tantrum at the candy store because I didn't want to wait. Mommy and Daddy took me home, and I didn't get any candy that day. These people were here first. It won't be fair if we go before them." Robert's disappointment remained evident, but he was satisfied with this explanation.

As the minutes crept by, the boys inched closer and closer to the front. The younger boy was practically dancing with excitement as tub after tub of rich, creamy, succulent ice cream slowly came into view.

"You see, Robbie?" Jon smiled down at his little brother. Only a few people were in front of them at this point. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"

A soft splattering sound and child's heartbroken scream ripped violently through the air, drawing the boys' attention away from the ice cream counter. Everyone whirled about in confusion, trying to pinpoint the source of the sudden outburst. A little girl perhaps four or five years old was staring down in horror at an ice cream cone splattered on the sidewalk. Her face was beet-red and contorted in agony, as she screamed herself hoarse. Tears of unfathomable grief poured down her cheeks and soaked through her dress, forming watery streaks down the length of the cottony material. People winced sympathetically at the tragic debacle, before backing away to distance themselves from her piercing shrieks.

Jon glanced down at the two coins in his hand. Enough to buy two cones. Then he peered at the mother and daughter out the corner of one eye. The little girl's mother was desperately trying to reason with the inconsolable child. She spoke effusive words of sympathy, but maintained that they were not carrying enough money to buy another one. But this reasoning seemed to do more harm than good. The girl coughed and sputtered and choked on her own tears and mucus, as they continued to flow profusely.

The crown prince made his decision. He tore his eyes away from the tantalizing buckets of ice cream that had ravished his eyes for the past twenty minutes. "Robbie, hold on to this." Jon laid one of the coins in his brother's palm. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

Jon weaved his way around several people, hardly aware of the many pairs of eyes following him, until he reached his destination. He tapped the little girl gently on the shoulder, and held out the coin.

The child's mother gaped at him in utter astonishment. She began to awkwardly lift a hand to decline his offer.

"Go on, take it," he gently insisted.

Tears streamed from her eyes as she dipped into a deep curtsy. "Thank you, Prince Jon. You are truly an angel sent from heaven to watch over Arendelle. You and your Mama." A few people began to clap. Others slowly joined the chorus, and soon hundreds were celebrating the simple but profound miracle they had witnessed.

Jon smiled awkwardly and bade them farewell. It hurt a little to see so many people milling about in his vicinity, slurping on the ice cream that he would not get to enjoy that day. But putting a smile back on the child's face filled him with a sensation of warmth and contentment deeper than anything a sugary treat could've provided.

"Why you do that?" Jon turned around. Gerda was holding Robert's left hand, while his right hand sported a waffle cone topped with succulent mounds of creamy goodness.

Jon squeezed Robert's hand, as the royal entourage began heading back to the castle. "Remember what Mommy told us in our bedtime story? A prince thinks of his people first. He helps those in need. He stands up for people who can't stand up for themselves. Robbie, we can get ice cream anytime we want. But that little girl really needed something to cheer her up."

Robert held up a messy cone to his brother. "You can share mine!" The boys giggled with delight as they took turns licking the ice cream and reducing it into a disastrous mess of slush. Their faces and clothes were covered with sticky slop. But they were too happy to notice or care.

As the young princes continued to laugh and joke and make an even bigger mess, Kai slipped into the castle and quietly informed Elsa and Fredrik of what had had transpired that day. The Snow Queen felt her eyes fill with tears at the heartwarming revelation. She beamed at her husband. "Our little Jon will make a great king some day."

**Isabella returns! Thank you for the suggestion, FrozenFairyTales aka SnowRoyalty**

**Fanfiction-ers, see you in two weeks for our next installment!**


	6. Love You Forever

**I'm back! **

**Anyways, this is the last "happy chapter." The so-called tragic accident will span the next two chapters. I've been out of town for the past 2 weeks, and I apologize if I take a while to respond to reviewers. But I do promise that I've been reading each one, and I really appreciate all the support!**

**Chapter 6:**

The entire kingdom was abuzz with activity as they prepared to throw a surprise gala for the twelfth anniversary of Elsa's coronation. The Snow Queen was now thirty-three years old, but hadn't aged one bit from the day she first bore the crown. Twelve years of keeping Arendelle in prime condition, and twice becoming a mother hadn't done a thing to detract from the youthfulness she so effortlessly maintained. Only the scars upon her hands and the arthritis that creaked between her weary knuckles proved that she was not indestructible.

Anna had taken it upon herself to keep Elsa distracted and oblivious to the clandestine operation unfolding in plain sight to everyone else. She was also meticulously planning every detail of the ceremony, and perseverated obsessively on the tiniest details, from the food to the decorations to the music. The council made sure to keep a careful account of Anna's withdrawals from the royal treasury, knowing how easily her imagination and enthusiasm could spiral out of control.

The secret had come close to escaping one afternoon, when Anna could be heard hissing shrilly at Kristoff, who had accidentally left scraps of confetti on the hallway carpet. Fortunately, Olaf had managed to pull Elsa out into the courtyard, as she was inches away from rounding the corner and discovering the paper trail.

The royal children were also part of the conspiracy. On particularly busy days, Jon and Kristen would feign loud, angry arguments over trivial matters. The children would suppress snorts of laughter as they barged precipitously into Elsa's study, each asserting their own blamelessness and insisting that they had been wronged. They would keep her distracted until the party preparations for the day were finished.

"Kristen called me a brat!" a red-faced Jon screamed.

"Well, you are one!" Kristen stomped her foot indignantly. "You're not just a brat, but you're a whiny, mean, selfish tattle-tale brat! You always eat more than your share of chocolate, and you think you can do whatever you want!"

"No, it was MY chocolate! You gave it to me! You said you would give me your chocolate if I let you have that pony thing that other day, and once you give somebody something, it's not yours anymore! You can't take it back! So you're the brat! And you're a lying, stealing, promise-breaking brat!" Jon fired back.

"I never said that! There was no _pony thing_! And I already gave you my chocolate last week, so even if you were telling the truth—which you aren't, because you never tell the truth—I still don't owe you any chocolate. So you're the liar! And you're fat!" Kristen shot him a wink that Elsa couldn't see.

"What you say is what you are, so you're fat! And you're ugly!"

"I'm telling!"

"No, I'm telling on you first!"

The kids would bombard Elsa with rapid, furious monologues of indecipherable nonsense, allowing Anna to slither past the door with her arms full of balloons and streamers. When the phony argument was finally settled and an acceptable compromise was reached, Jon and Kristen would scamper down the hallway, giggling and congratulating each other on a fine performance.

For one so clever, Elsa could certainly be naïve at times. She may have possessed the sharpest mind in Arendelle and never failed to spot a liar or opportunist, but the Snow Queen was no match for two determined children.

* * *

The day of the celebration was drawing near, and the two young princes were browsing through a trinket store, in search of the perfect gift for their mother.

"Look!" Four year-old Robert's eyes lit up as he spotted a snowflake handcrafted out of flawlessly translucent and sparkling glass. It glowed with all the splendor and radiance of diamonds in the candlelight. "Let's buy this for Mommy!" He rushed down the aisle to show Jon what he had found. In his excited stupor, the little boy tripped over his own feet and dropped the delicate ornament, which shattered with a soft but devastating clink.

The merriment instantly vanished from his bright green eyes, as they clouded over with tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Eight year-old Jon quickly pulled his little brother into a hug. "It's okay, Robbie. We'll pay for it." He ran his fingers soothingly through Robert's golden blonde locks. "Just be more careful next time." The broken ornament was valued at six copper coins. Jon placed seven coins on the counter, as restitution for the inconvenience caused.

But the shopkeeper was still ungracious and completely dismissive of their contrition. Mrs. Norgard was a large and busty woman in her fifties. Her round, fleshy face was perpetually red, and permanently entrenched with a belligerent scowl. She was notorious for being the grouchiest woman in town, and was the frequent target of jokes and name-calling by the kingdom's children. "Look what you've done, you little brat!" she barked angrily, spraying Robert with spit.

Jon stood his ground. "Mrs. Norgard, that was completely unnecessary. Robbie said that he's sorry, and we paid for it. You are overreacting."

But the corpulent old hag would only continue to berate the little boy. "That clumsy fool needs to keep his hands off of my property!"

Ice began to coat the walls of the room, as Jon grew increasingly incensed. He wrapped a protective arm around the younger boy, and spoke with all the poise and coolness of a future king. "That _clumsy fool_ is my brother, and a sovereign prince of Arendelle. Ask anyone in this kingdom, and they'll tell you that he is much more important than you will ever be! Good bye, Mrs. Norgard. I hope you realize you won't attract customers with that attitude." Jon grabbed Robert's hand, and the boys strode out the front door without buying a thing.

But their troubles wouldn't end there. They had hardly gone for a minute, before Robert walked straight into a potted plant. The little boy gasped in mortification as he realized his misstep, and hastily tried to clean it up. But he only succeeded at making things worse. When he bent down to pick up one plant, his bottom knocked over two others. Before long, his shirt was soiled and the sidewalk was completely littered with dirt and pebbles and leafy fragments.

A few gruff-looking men, whose attire revealed them to be dockhands and fishermen, bantered nearby at a table outside a tavern. "The old hag is right, you know? That boy is a damn idiot. You'd never believe in a million years that he and Queen Elsa were related. Maybe she froze his brain during the pregnancy."

"I know what you mean, dude," another man chortled as he took another sip of ale. "That Robert kid is so useless. Why don't they just disown him?"

A third man scratched his messy brown hair and spoke with a snide drawl, telling some "just the spare" joke that sent his companions into a fit of derisive giggling.

Jon gave Robert's arm a vigorous tug and tried to pull him out of earshot, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The toddler's face crumpled with grief as he broke free from Jon's grip and ran headlong for the castle gate, trying unsuccessfully to hide the blotchy mess of tears and mucus that stained his countenance. Robert pushed past row after row of guards and servants, until he ran into Fredrik at the top of the stairs.

The little boy threw himself into his father's arms. "Daddy!" he sobbed loudly.

Fredrik looked at his younger son in bewilderment and concern. "Robbie, what happened?"

Robert tried to explain what happened in town that day, but he was crying and choking too hard to utter another syllable. "Nobody likes me!" he finally managed after several minutes of incoherent sputtering.

Fredrik tousled his hair affectionately. "You know that's not true. There are so many people who like you. Mommy, Daddy, Auntie Anna, Uncle Kristoff, and everybody in Arendelle. Most importantly, Jon. Your brother loves you more than anything in the world."

Robert calmed down slightly at those words. "But I'm stupid."

The King of Arendelle eyed his youngest son curiously. "Robbie, why would you think that? Where did you get that idea?"

"I knocked over a bunch of things by accident today, and everybody called me stupid. But I didn't mean to. I guess I am stupid." Fresh tears were leaking out the corners of his eyes, at the mere recollection. "I don't want to be stupid!" he howled miserably.

"Daddy, am I just a spare?"

"No!" Fredrik asserted firmly. "You are a prince of Arendelle, and a member of our family. Most importantly, you are a human being who deserves to be treated with respect.

"But Jon is better than me."

"Robbie, how can you say you aren't as good as Jon, when you're good in different ways? Tell me, does Mommy like Auntie Anna?" Robert nodded.

"But Auntie Anna was never born to be Queen. And she isn't as smart as Mommy. Is she just a spare? Why does Mommy like her?"

"Because Auntie Anna is the most coolest and awesomest person in the whole wide world!"

"There you go. You see, Robbie? It doesn't matter. Being a good person is more important than having a crown on your head. I can guarantee that even when you boys are all grown up and Jon becomes King, you will still be the most important person in his life."

Robert sucked his thumb as he tried to digest this perplexing dissertation. "So does Jon still love me? As much as he loves chocolate?"

"Even more," Fredrik reassured him.

* * *

Later that night, after Robert had fallen asleep, Jon sat up in bed and glanced over. The younger boy was curled up in a ball, clutching his favorite teddy bear and slumbering peacefully underneath the thick, fluffy blanket. His eyelids were still red and puffy, and streaks of watery residue still stained his chubby little cheeks.

Jon glanced quietly around their shared bedroom in the castle nursery. A shimmer of blue caught his eye. Sitting on the lid of their toy chest were two identical snow globes that Elsa had given both boys for Christmas two years ago. The Snow Prince wound up a little dial on the bottom of the contraption, and soft, twinkling melody began to play. It was a lullaby that Mommy used to sing to him all the time when he was Robbie's age, and it never failed to flood his heart with peace and contentment.

Clutching one of the snow globes in his hands, Jon tiptoed soundlessly to Robert's bedside, and let the music flow. Softly and tenderly, he sang along with his improvised lyrics.

_I love you forever,_

_I like you for always._

_As long as I'm living,_

_My brother you'll be._

**The next chapter will be angsty. Be prepared!**


	7. A Tragic Morning

**Well, this is where the angst begins. Please PM me if you would like spoilers.**

**Warning: some alcohol use &amp; foul language (albeit in a joking context). Kristoff and Fredrik unleash their inner fratboys. **

**Chapter 7:**

"Come on Mommy, pleeeeeease?" Robert put on Anna's signature pouting puppy-dog face, and completely melted the Snow Queen to a pile of slush. "I promise I'll be good!"

The men of the castle were planning to embark on a weekend camping trip, in celebration of completing weeks of undercover party planning under Anna's shrill command. With just three days until the twelfth anniversary of Elsa's coronation, all the necessary preparations had been finished in the nick of time. The children had been invited to come along.

Elsa trusted Jon and Kristen to exercise good judgment and not get excessively carried away. But she had plenty of misgivings about letting four year-old Robert out of her sight. The littlest prince was every bit as energetic as Anna was as a child. When he was happy or excited, he would impulsively do whatever came to mind without thinking about the consequences. He also had the propensity to wander away from adult supervision whenever the royal family ventured out of the castle.

But to keep the children apart was unthinkable. As she had learned from her own parents' mistakes, depriving a child in the name of "protecting them" would always do more harm than good, only brewing repression and resentment in the long run. After the "just the spare" fiasco earlier that week, to further reinforce the notion that he could not be trusted would wreak unthinkable damage on the little boy's self-esteem. Elsa picked Robert up and set him in her lap. "Of course you may go, sweetie. But please be careful, and use good judgment. Don't eat any wild berries, or play with animals you find in the woods. They might look cute and fluffy, but they can bite." The little boy nodded enthusiastically, bouncing up and down.

With a tender smile, Elsa unwrapped a piece of chocolate from her pocket and laid it in Robert's chubby little hand. "Can you promise Mommy that you won't wander off alone? That you won't go anywhere without an adult?"

"I promise!" Robert shouted happily. His wide eyes and adorable smile were irresistible.

"Good boy." Elsa planted a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "Have a wonderful time, and stay safe!"

* * *

The full moon was radiant in the immaculately clear and starry sky, shedding its silvery beams around the joyful revelers below. As the children slept peacefully in their tent, the men sat huddled around the campfire, basking in the warmth of the open flame and the even cozier warmth of family and friends. In the distance, the intermittent howls of lone wolves reverberated through the forest clearing, as the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat wafted through the crisp mountain air. An entire wild boar was impaled through a spit, slowly cooking over the fiery tendrils. The hapless beast had put up a valiant resistance, struggling ferociously to stave off its mortality, until it perished under Fredrik's crossbow.

The men stuffed themselves with food, pillaging into the succulent carcass with barbaric fervor. They haphazardly tore away huge chunks of meat, hot and crispy and oozing with lard, talking with their mouths full as they gnawed vigorously at the charred bones. This was the time to liberate the repressed primordial instinct and unleash the inner caveman that was so unbecoming of royal life. To venture out of the civilized world of the castle and crown, and plunge into a world of rugged challenge and adversity that separated the men from the boys. Alcohol, testosterone, and profanity flowed like a river.

Only Kai was reasonably sober, as he raised his mug of ale high into the air. "Let us toast to another year of peace and prosperity in Arendelle." The other men followed suit.

Lieutenant Stevens patted Fredrik jovially on the back. "All thanks to Frosty, who is working her sexy ass off back at the castle, instead of bumming in the woods like _someone_."

Fredrik laughed and splashed some ale in his direction. "That _someone_ was responsible for your dinner tonight, you ungrateful little shit."

Kristoff snorted incredulously. "Excuse me, but I believe I am the true hero of the hunt."

Admiral Peterson shook his head. "You mean you killed that pig by screaming like a little bitch?"

Kristoff gave a toothy grin and raised a middle finger. "Admit it, man. Freddie can't hunt, he can't fish, and he can't even milk a cow. In fact, he's such a dumbass he can't even fart and pick his nose at the same time."

"So tell me, Kristopher, who killed that pig while _someone_ was hiding behind Sven and shitting his pants?" Fredrik tossed a rock over his shoulder, and hit Kristoff squarely in the crotch.

Several of the guards snickered. "Great shot, Your Majesty. You must have impeccable aim to hit such a tiny target." Their laugh was cut short as Kristoff emptied an entire bottle of beer over their heads.

The ice master turned to address his brother-in-law again. "Psh! I would've killed that pig with my bare hands! But you had to be such a giant pussy and use your crossbow! I challenge you to a hunt-off! Winner takes the crown."

Fredrik waved his hand nonchalantly. "Yeah, like that would be fair. You could stink a pig to death, the way you never bathe."

"And you would turn it to stone with your ugly face." The ice master retorted.

"Just kidding, I love you Freddie," Kristoff slurred. A big goofy grin spread across his face, as he pulled the king into a very intimate and suggestive embrace.

Fredrik was every bit as inebriated, as he returned the gesture. "I love you too, Krissy." Every man groaned and gagged in disgust.

Kristoff pulled out of the hug. "Hey Freddie, you wanna hear a song I wrote?" He swayed awkwardly on his feet and stumbled back to his tent, emerging with a lute in hand.

"Reindeers smell better than Anna… Fred, don't you think that's true?"

Kai grabbed Kristoff just as he was about to slosh down his seventh beer. "You've had quite enough to drink, young man."

The blonde continued to sing "Kai is a bossy old douchebag… Fred, don't you think I'm right? _That's once again true, just get a clue… _Kai is a douche." Kristoff finished his serenade by emptying his half-finished mug of ale into Kai's head.

An exasperated Kai stormed back into the tent, furiously wiping the sticky fermented liquid from his face and clothes as he complained to the guards. "King Fredrik and Prince Kristoff have had way too much to drink tonight. Next time I'm bringing the alcohol."

Fredrik yelled after him. "Wait, I'm a king? Of what? You're not making any sense, tubby! Hey Krissy, wanna hear a joke? Who are the three greatest kings of Arendelle?"

Kristoff slurred back, "I don't know, Freddie. Who are the three greatest kings of Arendelle?"

"Smo_king_, drin_king_, and fuc_king_! Especially if you're fucking Frosty under the table in the throne room!" Both men burst into a fit of intoxicated laughter, bellowing at the top of their lungs.

Finally, every last drop of alcohol had been consumed, and the fiery embers began to die down. In utter exhaustion and euphoria, the men retreated to their tents and collapsed into slumber.

* * *

A faint orange glow began to peek over the eastern horizon, crowning the forest canopies with a golden backlight. In the distance, hidden within the deep emerald shadows, the woodland critters stirred to life. Leaves rustled and birds chirped, preparing for another day to dawn.

Only a messy campsite in the forest clearing remained devoid of activity. Silvery bulbs of dew lay cold and unperturbed upon the surrounding grass. The dilapidated remains of a wild boar carcass lay strewn across a pit of dampened woodchips. Random bits of bone and sinew and coagulated puddles of tan-colored liquid festered in the air, attracting scores upon scores of insects. Gruff snores emanated from a cluster of tents, revealing that there was life within this apparently desolate settlement.

The flap of a tent fluttered open, and a small boy peeked out with a mischievous smile. Prince Robert of Arendelle glanced in either direction, before disappearing back into the tent to wake his partners in crime. "Jon! Kristen! Wake up!"

"Robbie," a sleepy voice mumbled softly. "Go back to sleep."

The younger boy emitted a dramatic sigh, and flopped down on top of his brother. "Come on, let's go on an adventure!"

Jon buried his face into his pillow. "When Daddy wakes up."

"Aww," Robert pouted. "But Daddy will take so long to wake up. Let's go by ourself!"

"Robbie," Kristen spoke softly but firmly. "You know we supposed to wait for the grownups."

Those words struck a chord in his four year-old heart. It was the vow he had made to his mother. But the flowery meadows and mysterious forests beckoned him with a tantalizing allure. The call of adventure was too great to ignore. Robert paused to dig for a loophole that would allow him to slake his curiosity without disobeying. Then it came to him in a glorious stroke of inspiration.

"We three together are a grownup!" he babbled excitedly.

Kristen raised her eyebrows. "Robbie, what do you mean?"

"Us three!" he gestured to himself, his brother and cousin. "I bet together we're more bigger and strongerer than Daddy! So we're a grownup!"

"Robbie, it doesn't work that way." Jon patiently explained.

The little boy became increasingly flustered as he saw his chances of convincing them slipping away. Then a new idea dawned upon him.

"We're a grownup if we plus our ages together!" He counted on his fingers. "Nine plus eight plus four is twenty-five! And twenty-five is grownup!"

"Twenty-one," Jon corrected. "But you do have a point. Twenty-one _is_ grownup…"

Confidence surged in his heart, as the littlest prince realized he was getting close to achieving his goal. Jon's resolve was crumbling. Robert made a final bid. He knew there was one thing his brother could never resist.

"Do you wanna visit Mommy's Ice Castle?" He had done it. He had said the magic words.

Indeed, Jon relented. "Okay!" he whispered. "But we have to make it quick. We'll go there for five minutes and come back. Got that? Five minutes, and no more."

"Are you sure about this?" Kristen furrowed her brow in concern. "We'll get in so much trouble if our parents find out."

Jon sighed. He knew they weren't supposed to leave the campsite without an adult. But he wanted so badly to see Elsa's majestic creation glowing in the morning sun, in all its beauty and splendor. Besides, what could go wrong in five minutes?

The three children tiptoed wordlessly out of their tent, careful not to make a sound. But the events of the previous night rendered their efforts superfluous. Fredrik, Kristoff, and the other men were trapped in a comatose sleep, still hung over from their drunken festivities. With their degree of intoxication, they could've slept through another eternal winter.

"This way!" Robert pulled his brother and cousin along eagerly, furiously pumping his tiny legs as he sprinted forward. The hours surreptitiously crept by, as the sun rose higher and inundated the landscape with dazzling rays of light and warmth. But the kids paid no attention, as they plodded deeper and deeper into the forest.

"Robbie, do you even know where we're going?" Jon asked incredulously. The younger boy nodded vigorously, his blonde hair flapping about in the wind.

"Yes! The North Mountain is over there!"

"I think it's actually—"

"Quiet!" Kristen suddenly hissed. She held a finger to her lips and peered intently into a dense clump of undergrowth. "Do you hear that?"

A low, coarse grunting sound and the rustling of leaves sounded not far away. Branches snapped and clumps of grass were heard being uprooted from the earth. The children cautiously backed away, keeping their gaze fixated on the dense thicket.

Then they saw it. Grazing in the clump of trees and bushes was an enormous wild boar, the most fearsome beast their young eyes had ever beheld. It was larger than many of the horses kept in the royal stables, weighing perhaps fifty stone or more. The muscles and sinews stood out like knotted cords down the length of its massive hairy body, and its vicious tusks gleamed menacingly under the bright morning sun. But the wild behemoth paid no attention to the children, as it plowed through the dirt in search of insects and tubers.

Jon pretended to fire an invisible arrow at the monster pig. "He would make a great Christmas dinner."

"I bet I can beat him! I wanna be a great hunter, just like Daddy!" Robert's green eyes were wide with wonder and enthusiasm.

Jon laughed and patted his baby brother on the head. "I bet I can kill an even bigger pig!" he spoke in jest.

Robert stuck out his chest proudly. "I am the son of the mighty Snow Queen and the most bestest hunter in all of Arendelle! I'll run in there and go all _Pffffffft! Psssssh! Peeeeew! _And the pig will explode in a bajillion pieces!" The toddler hopped and danced about, waving his arms wildly and emitting a rapid barrage of random and unintelligible sound effects. In his excitement, Robert began spiraling closer and closer to the feral beast.

Jon tried to grab him by the shoulder. "Robbie, I was only joking. Wild boars are very dangerous. Don't go any closer."

The little tyke seized a handful of rocks and pine cones and began charging straight at the monster pig in single-minded determination. Blood was pounding in his ears and fanciful visions clouded his mind, drowning out his wiser judgment and any sense of perspective.

The older boy was beginning to panic. He recognized this mental state in his younger brother. The four year-old had a rather tenuous grasp on reality, and when swept away by his gratuitous imagination, he would act out in the most bizarre and outlandish manners. Now the little tot had managed to convince himself that he was the greatest hunter Arendelle had ever seen, and was determined to bring that fantasy to life. "Robbie, stop!"

Too late.

* * *

"Robbie, I told you not to do that!" Jon screamed hysterically. But the younger boy still appeared oblivious to the sheer enormity of his actions. He whooped excitedly and cheered his brother on, as if participating in a spectator sport. The wild boar squared its massive shoulders and snorted loudly, readying itself for a charge.

Kristen had run back for help. Jon steadied his trembling hands and fired a blast of ice. But his powers were far weaker than his mother's. Furthermore, his aim was erratic at best in his state of shock. He was powerless to injure the enraged behemoth, and could only stall for time.

Jon continued to shoot icy projectiles from both hands, grazing the boar's left flank and drawing blood with a well-placed shot. But fatigue was taking its toll, and his aim was slowly deteriorating. Every blast of ice required more effort and concentration than the one before it. Finally, he could no longer sustain his onslaught. Jon closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

But death never came. The swift pounding of hoofbeats and a determined grunt broke his catatonic trance. Jon felt himself suddenly lift off the ground and soar through the air. The young prince opened his weary eyes. Kristoff had swept him up with one hand and tossed him onto Sven's back. Robbie was perched safely in the ice harvester's opposite arm, as the trio galloped quickly out of harm's way. Jon leaned forward and slumped face-first into the reindeer's soft fur.

A chorus of aggressive masculine voices sounded over his shoulder. Fredrik and several other men were rushing forward with weapons unsheathed. Jon winced at the murderous rage etched into his father's handsome features. For their disobedience, he and Robbie would most certainly taste Papa's belt when this debacle was finished. But the prospect of bruised and blistered bottoms paled in comparison to his miraculous escape from death. Icy tears slid down his cheeks, as the eight year-old looked to the heavens and resolved to be a good son for the rest of his days.

His relief would be short-lived, however. Confident that he was now safe and untouchable, and not fully understanding the danger they were in, Robert would once again test the limits with an incredibly childish act of inanity. He whirled around and hurled another volley of stones at the giant hog, striking it in the eye. "Score!"

The boar charged with all its might and fury. One of its razor-sharp tusks ripped open Sven's right flank, unleashing a quick spurt of blood. The wound was shallow, but the damage had been done. As he stumbled about, the reindeer inadvertently bucked his riders high into the air. Both boys found themselves sprawled across the ground. The monster pig was getting increasingly incensed, as it moved in for the kill. Its eyes glowed like fiery embers, as it glared menacingly at the humans responsible for its aggravation. Saliva hung from its teeth in slippery stalactites. Hot, foul-smelling air emanated from its nostrils as it crept closer. Jon buried his face miserably between his knees. _I'm sorry Mama, Papa. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have wandered off._

Seeing his sons in peril, Fredrik pushed past the guards with herculean speed and agility. In an incredibly bold maneuver, he rolled his six-foot-four frame between the giant boar and its hapless victims, and managed to land a killing thrust with his sword. But victory would not come without a price. As the slain behemoth thrashed about in agony, one of its tusks slid neatly across Fredrik's thigh, cutting straight to the bone and shredding his femoral artery. The King of Arendelle doubled over and collapsed motionlessly to the ground, drenched in his own blood and sweat.

"Daddy!" Jon screamed in terror, as fresh tears sprang to his eyes and a thick layer of hoarfrost covered the forest clearing.


	8. A Hero's Death

**Guest:**** After I finish this story, I'm going to write another Hans Revenge fic that will have a lot of overlap with the unpublished/alternate chapters of Playing Dirty. With that said, I don't think I'll continue the **_**What Would Have Happened**_** series. But if you create a User ID, I'd be happy to PM the next chapter(s) to you!**

**Guest:**** Robert is 4, Jon is 8, Elsa is 33 and Fredrik is 46. **

**Warning: Lots of angst, and death of major character. **

**Chapter 8:**

Elsa massaged her fingers and turned back to the neat pile of parchment sitting atop her desk. The trade agreement she had been working on for the past two months was nearly finished and ready to be implemented. But her hands ached terribly and she was weeks ahead of schedule, so she opted for a break. Elsa stepped out the door and into the hallway. She would invite Anna to build a snowman. As she rounded a corner, she walked directly into someone, sending her sprawling backwards onto the ground.

It was Kai. The portly older man was her most trusted advisor, and played the role of a father figure in her younger days. Elsa smiled warmly and began to inquire about the camping trip, but faltered at the downcast expression on his face.

"Your Majesty," he took a solemn bow. "I regret to be the bearer of bad news."

Ice crept up the walls and across the floor, at the Snow Queen's discomfort. She began rambling wildly. "What happened? Are the children all right? How about Fredrik? Kristoff?"

Kai brushed away a tear and pulled the agitated young woman into his arms. Right now she was no longer the queen of a realm, but soon to be a grieving mother and widow. "There was an accident. Yesterday the children left the campsite at dawn to go explore the woods. Little Robert wanted to go hunting. He tried to attack a wild boar—"

"Robbie did WHAT?" Elsa shrieked.

An explosion of ice rocked the room, causing the temperature to plummet. Kai shivered violently and pulled his jacket tightly around his body, but would not speak a word of protest. At the moment, his personal comfort was the least of their concerns. With trembling voice, he finished the story. "Robert was thrown onto the ground when the boar attacked Sven. He hit his head and is out cold, but the doctors say he will be fine by tomorrow. The ice master's reindeer was badly wounded and will be crippled for life, but he'll live. Fredrik's condition is rather precarious. He has suffered severe internal damage and lost a lot of blood—"

Elsa silenced him with another deafening explosion of ice that nearly shattered a vase. "I wasn't even going to let the children go at first! They asked and begged and _promised_ to behave themselves! What part of _don't run off_ don't they understand? And I specifically asked Robert not to mess around with wild animals!" Elsa slammed her foot viciously against the wall with a thundering boom. But the agony of her stubbed toe only amplified her frustration, as she gesticulated wildly and continued to rant. "I let them go, and _this_ is how they repay me? Doing the exact opposite of what they promised? They might as well have told me to go fuck myself!"

The Snow Queen haphazardly threw open a door and fumbled about furiously for several minutes. Finally, she emerged with a thick leather strap in hand. Kai grimaced at the sight. "Your Majesty, what—"

"Something I've learned over the past few years is that people who won't respond to discourse and reason will only be persuaded by force. Today is no exception. I asked the kids nicely, and they respond by essentially saying _Fuck You_ to my face. It's time to adopt stronger measures."

Kai was greatly unnerved by her outburst. It was so uncharacteristic of Elsa to lose her temper or resort to threats and violence. He lifted a hand in feeble protest.

She brushed him aside abrasively, and continued making a beeline for the staircase. "I'm the queen. I can do whatever the bloody hell I want."

* * *

Elsa stormed through the halls, icy footsteps materializing with every step she took. She ducked to keep her tear-streaked face as hidden as possible, and mumbled a lengthy string of threats and curses through clenched teeth. Her left hand was so tightly clamped around the leather strap, the waxy white skin covering her knuckles was on the verge of splitting. She knew what the children would say, and she would have none of it. _We didn't mean to. It was an accident. We're sorry._ Elsa ground her teeth together and involuntarily spoke out loud. "Well, _sorry_ isn't going to change what happened!" Tears and apologies would prove utterly futile. There was nothing the children could do to negotiate their ways out of the whipping they so deserved.

Several maids and servants reached out timidly to pat her on the arm, but recoiled instantly as Elsa whipped her hand across a mahogany console table, and sent a vase of flowers crashing to the floor. The Snow Queen angry was a rare and terrifying sight to behold.

Finally, she found herself standing in front of a closed set of double-doors leading to the hospital wing of the castle. Without a second thought, Elsa drew back one leg and slammed her heel into its polished wooden surface. She was hardly cognizant of the deafening crash of the brass doorknob against the wall, or the many pairs of stunned eyes that instantly transfixed upon her. But as she stepped forward and sized up the situation at hand, her anger dissipated at once. Robert lay unconscious on a small mattress, with his head wrapped in bandages. Jon knelt by Fredrik's bedside with a desperate, pleading look etched into his face. Anna was hugging Kristen tightly as the younger redhead apologized profusely and patted a broken-legged Sven on the back. Elsa instantly forgot the stinging tirade and brutal punishment she planned to deliver. Instead, she fell to her knees and pulled her son into a hug.

Elsa felt a cold wetness soaking through and spreading across the shoulder of her dress. She held Jon even tighter, and felt her heart overflow with tenderness. It was then that Elsa realized she also knew firsthand how it felt to inadvertently hurt a loved one. The guilt was tremendous, and would rapidly conflagrate into a destructive and unhealthy self-loathing if not handled with care. The children would forever live with the scars of what they had witnessed. That was punishment enough. Now was the time for nurture and comfort, not for judgment and scolding.

She reached down and patted Jon soothingly on the back. "Mommy's right here, sweetie." The tears flowed freely.

A faint cough and clearing of a throat caught her attention. Elsa carefully leaned over Fredrik's prostrate body and cradled his head gently in her arms. "My strong, brave, selfless Fredrik…" She reached out a hand to stroke his sandy blonde hair. "Please wake up… Just let me hear your voice."

His eyelids fluttered, before parting to reveal slivers of those sea-green orbs. "Elsa!" Ignoring his injuries, Fredrik vigorously pushed himself up from the bed and enveloped her in a tight hug. But he grimaced and fell back at the pain of his exertion. He coughed violently, spraying her dress with flecks of blood.

"Please be all right. Oh Fredrik, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault. I should have come with you, to keep an eye on the little ones."

He silenced her with a feeble wave of the hand. "At least I got to see you one last time."

"Don't talk like that! What about the boys? What about me? Our family won't be complete without you."

"No, Elsa. _You_ are the true heart and soul of Arendelle. You created a legacy of love and sacrifice for the rest of us to follow. You are the ultimate embodiment of everything that is right in this world. That timeless creed that sums up the spirit of our family and kingdom: Love will thaw... And love will heal." Fredrik paused to draw another agonized breath, forcing himself to continue speaking. "I must go now. Good bye, my love."

Tears poured down Elsa's cheeks, as the seriousness of the situation became glaringly real. She was no stranger to death, but to watch a loved one die before her very eyes was a frightening and foreign experience. "Will you tell Mama and Papa how much I love them?"

The dying king smiled through his pain. Despite the agonized grimace etched into his handsome features, his eyes were stunningly tranquil. "I will tell them that they couldn't have raised a better daughter or heir… and thank them for sharing you with me." His chest fell, and he was gone.

* * *

Elsa stood before her husband's grave, carrying little Robert in one arm and holding Jon's hand in her other. The freshly dug dirt was covered with a neat pile of flowers, placed there by citizens who had come to show respect and solidarity to their royal family. Despite the clear skies and balmy climates that characterized summer in Arendelle, the air was cold and stagnant. The skies were a dark, monochromatic field of endless gray, blocking out every ray of sunlight. Everyone stood with their heads bowed and tears streaming as the priest spoke in a low, melancholic tone. But in her grief, Elsa was hardly listening. She turned her tear-streaked face to the gloomy gray skies and silently promised Mama, Papa, and Fredrik that she would protect and serve Arendelle until her final breath.

When the funeral procession came to a close, many people came to hug Elsa. They gave her sad, contrite smiles and bowed deeply, but no words were exchanged. No words could do justice to the situation at hand. Eventually, as the crowds dispersed and the children followed Anna back to the castle, only Elsa was left. She collapsed to the ground in a sobbing wreck.

"Oh Fredrik, why? Why did you have to leave so soon?" She continued to weep for nearly an hour, in a mindless outpouring of grief. But as her tears began to run dry, a calmer perspective settled in. She laid a trembling hand on the cold, lifeless mound of dirt.

"You died a hero's death. You died protecting the ones you love. There is no greater love than to give your life for another." Elsa swallowed hard and tried to compose herself. She drew a shuddering breath and continued, fighting back a fit of sobs that would render her completely incoherent. "I wish you could be here to watch our boys become good, kind, God-fearing men. But the Lord is good to widows and orphans. We have two wonderful sons, and you will be watching them from above."

"He may not understand now, but when little Robbie is older, he will feel so much guilt and shame at what happened. But I will do everything I can to make sure our boys grow up in love, not fear. Robbie will know that Daddy loved him enough to die for him, and in turn he will become the most loving and selfless person this kingdom has ever seen. And I know in my heart that one day, our Jon will grow up to be the greatest man to ever wear the crown of Arendelle."

Fredrik was buried on the very same hill where Adgar, Idunn, and all their predecessors had been laid to rest so many years ago. Lying adjacent to his grave was a neat patch of unperturbed grass, leaving room for the distant someday when Elsa would join the hallowed ranks of Arendelle's deceased monarchs. As the skies darkened and an uncomfortable chill began to permeate the landscape, Elsa forced herself to stand. She walked numbly to each of the cold, lifeless tombstones and planted a gentle kiss onto each one, before heading back to the castle. Her eyes were dry and her countenance placid, for all her tears had been shed and she had no strength left to cry.

**RIP Fredrik. Jon's transformation begins in the next chapter. **


	9. Not My Brother Anymore

**Apologies for a short chapter! But I wanted to get this out by today. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 9:**

Elsa was no stranger to grief. When she was eight years old, Anna was ripped from her embrace. When she was twelve, her powers were deemed too dangerous for her to give or receive any sort of human contact. When she was eighteen, the death of her parents forced her into the uncomfortable new role as the head of a household and kingdom.

Because her powers were so closely linked to her emotions, she rid herself of the ability to feel anything at all. Her tragic past had forced her to develop an indomitable willpower, and an almost inhuman ability to withstand disappointment. For thirteen long and miserable years, she was cut off from the rest of the world, deprived of the nurture and experience so critical to the formative years of childhood and adolescence. Until her coronation forced her into a more open and public life, Elsa had resigned herself to eternal imprisonment.

Like the mighty glaciers of the North Mountain, a heart frozen solid by fear could be thawed only with an inordinate amount of time and patience. Twelve years ago, the healing process began. The gates had opened. The storms were banished. A treasured friendship that had all but perished long ago was resurrected in the face of stupefying odds. She knew she was loved in spite of all her faults and fears, and she dared to reciprocate that love. For the first time in forever, she could emerge from the shell of fear and isolation that had imprisoned her for so long. Battered, but not broken, Damaged, but not destroyed.

By her side was a sister who had never given up on her, even in their darkest days. A brother who had once been a stranger. A kingdom full of hardy, resilient people whom she was proud to call her own. Soon to be followed by a dear, sweet man who proved to be the perfect husband, father, and king. Two wonderful sons whom they would raise to be the finest men Arendelle had ever seen.

But _happily ever after_ was as ephemeral as snow on a summer day. With one tragic accident, the circle had been broken, and it would never again be complete in this life.

It was for this very reason that Elsa now lay sprawled on largest and most luxurious bed in the entire kingdom, with her face buried into a pillow and her tears drenching through the mattress. By her side was a cold, empty space on the bed that would never be filled. But nothing could compare to the aching void in her heart. Tears poured down her crumpled face as she convulsed in grief, clutching a portrait of their family in her trembling fists. Never again would she feel Fredrik's strong arms around her, flooding her soul with warmth and assurance. Never again would she see those bright green eyes fill with pride and affection as they watched their boys grow. She would never again see Fredrik in this life.

* * *

A soft knocking on her door drew Elsa out of her misery. In her disheveled state, she was in no mood for company. But if there was anything she had learned over the course of her rather crazy and eventful life, it was that a closed door was not a sanctuary to hide from problems and avoid reality. Besides, she had to stand as a pillar of strength for a mourning kingdom. Arendelle could not afford to have its queen wallowing in self-pity for any longer. Elsa smoothed out her hair and wiped her wet, blotchy cheeks before pulling open the door.

It was Jon. She held out her arms, wanting to smother the poor child with love and warmth. To sit him in her lap as if he were a toddler again, brush back his platinum blonde locks, and assure him that he was loved unconditionally. But before she could make a single move, Jon spoke first.

Much time had passed since Elsa last heard her son's voice. In the five days since his father's death, Jon had holed himself up in his room, refusing to see anyone as he mourned in solitude. Elsa felt that this was a counterproductive and unhealthy outlet for grief, but she would not impose her presence on him. Different people had different ways of coping with tragedy, and the last thing the eight year-old needed was someone telling him that there was a "right" or "wrong" way to respond. But she would always be ready with receptive ears, open arms, and an endless supply of hugs and kisses for whenever Jon was ready.

But as the boy opened his mouth for the first time in five days, Elsa felt a chill run up her spine.

"It's his fault."

Before Elsa could process what he had said, Jon continued, "Robert did this. It's his fault that Daddy is dead."

His tone became markedly harsher. "I hate him! I wish he was never born!" Elsa ducked as a sharp streak of ice missed her face by inches, and exploded against the far wall.

The Snow Queen felt her heart break at those words. Her worst fears had been confirmed. More than one bond had been broken within their family, at a time when they needed each other's love and support more than ever.

She wanted to convince herself that Jon didn't truly mean what he said. That the boy simply needed an outlet for his grief and indignation. That this was only a transient phase that would come to pass, after the initial shock died down. But as she saw the hatred in his eyes and heard the bitterness in his voice that a child his age should not be capable of, she knew that her son had been fundamentally—and perhaps irreversibly—altered by the tragedy.

It could be asserted with complete truth and validity that Robert was not entirely at fault; Jon too had been guilty of disobedience and poor decision-making that day, albeit to a lesser extent. But this was not the time to point fingers or assign blame, or worse yet, tell Jon that he "shouldn't feel that way." The children had all suffered through a traumatic event. To nitpick over who was at fault would be petty and insensitive beyond all human decency. They needed the loving embrace of a mother. Not the impartial judgment of a ruler.

With tears running down her cheeks, Elsa reached out to lay a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder. But he shoved her back with an astonishing degree of roughness, causing her to stumble backwards and crash violently into her dressing table. Elsa winced in pain and gingerly attempted to stand, as shards of broken mirror sliced through her clothes and skin. Dozens of long, jagged lacerations ribboned her arms and torso. Without another word or gesture, and in complete indifference to his mother's injury, Jon headed for hallway in long, purposeful strides.

Just as he was about to slam the door in his wake, he turned back around. His bright blue eyes were cold and barren, dull with the infinite cynicism of a once-innocent creature that had been broken, beaten, and stripped of its humanity. Jon spoke in a chilling voice that was not his own.

"I wish Robert was dead."

**The next chapters will be longer, as they further show Jon's transformation into a cold and mean-spirited person. **


	10. A Bully is Born

**Guest****: I like the idea of having Fredrik appear in one of Elsa's dreams! I'll see what I can do with that.**

**Once again, please read and review! All feedback is welcome.**

**Chapter 10: **

Four year-old Robert skipped down the hall and rapped his tiny knuckles enthusiastically against the smooth wooden surface, behind which resided a roomful of treasured memories with his favorite person in the world. "Jon, are you in there?"

No response. He knocked harder. When his entreaty fell on deaf ears once again, he began pulling and twisting the doorknob.

Finally, the door swung vigorously into the hallway, nearly knocking Robert onto his back. The little boy eagerly scrambled to his feet, beaming as he beheld the dear brother and friend he had not seen in days. But as Jon opened his mouth to speak, his excitement began to wither.

"What do you want?" the older boy snapped harshly, his blue eyes as cold and hollow as the icy caverns of the North Mountain. His body language betrayed the same calloused indifference, as he stood as stiff as an ice sculpture and made no move to reciprocate his brother's affability.

Robert shrank back timidly, but remained hopeful. "Auntie Anna is taking me to the candy store. Do you wanna come?"

"Not interested." Jon's response was terse and irritated. He began to push the door shut.

Robert quickly planted his foot into the trajectory of the closing door, forcing it back open. "Are you sure?"

The walls were on the verge of splintering, as icy tendrils began etching into the polished wood, stressing the material beyond its limits. "Yes! And don't ask again." Jon spun on his heels without another word.

Now the little boy was completely confused. Jon had never turned down a chance to get his hands on some candy. In fact, one of their favorite "games" was to sneak into the kitchens late at night to plunder its stash of delectable sweets, battling Kai in an epic game of cat-and-mouse. It was a family tradition that Mommy and Auntie Anna had established many years ago, and the boys were all too eager to keep it alive. Perhaps his big brother wasn't feeling well, or was simply having a bad day.

Robbie tried once more. "Do you wanna go sledding tomorrow?"

"No!" Jon shouted furiously, as ice swirled about the room with frenzied turbulence. His eyes were bloodshot and murderous. "Now go away!" The crown prince vigorously slammed the door shut, nearly crushing Robert's chubby little fingers in the treacherous crack between the hinges.

"Okay… bye," the four year-old whispered sadly. He walked away with his head down, hugging himself as tears slithered down his cheeks and dripped onto the floor. Confusion and disappointment clouded his mind. What did he do wrong? What on earth could he have done to make Big Brother so angry with him?

_And don't come back,_ Jon thought savagely. The indignation was overwhelming. Just listen to the offhandedness in Robert's tone, and the sheer frivolity of his requests! He didn't seem to notice or care at all that Daddy was never coming back. All he could think about was his own gluttony, self-centeredness, and insistence on getting his way no matter who or what was jeopardized. How could Robert be so oblivious and self-absorbed? How could he be thinking about having fun in a time like this?

A gust of rage consumed his entire body, as ice tingled at his fingertips, demanding release. The young prince drew back both hands and thrust them forward, shattering a mirror with a massive torrent of ice. Thoroughly spent and exhausted, Jon collapsed on his bed in a fit of angry tears.

* * *

A month had passed since Fredrik's death. Jon's angry outbursts only continued to monotonically increase in frequency and intensity. He was constantly rude and aggressive towards everyone, with his mother being a partial exception. His icy magic also flared out of control on a regular basis, but it was the nature of these episodes that was most disconcerting. Whenever Elsa was upset or stressed out in her childhood, clouds of snow and ice would swirl about her vicinity in a chaotic but largely random configuration. Jon's had a distinctly belligerent and offensive nature, and would often cause injury in addition to mere messiness.

One Sunday afternoon, Jon was stalking to his room after lunch. As he marched precipitously along the hallways, he accidentally walked straight into a maid carrying a basket of freshly folded laundry.

"Get out of my way, you fat ugly pig!" he barked angrily. The maid hastily stepped back, bowing and offering profuse words of apology to the crown prince. But Jon was having a bad day, and she would become the unfortunate recipient of his misplaced anger. He ripped the basket out of her hands and tossed it down the staircase, rendering her hard work completely worthless.

A savage sense of vindication and power surged through his veins. "Do you want to go to the dungeons?" he snapped, swirling his hands about menacingly. The terrified woman shook her head vigorously.

"Then clean it up!" Jon summoned a gust of icy wind to again knock the basket from her hands. He gave her his most vicious smirk before vanishing into his room and slamming the door with a loud, cacophonous boom. The poor maid scrambled to pick up the chaotic mess of towels, tablecloths, and clothing strewn all over the burgundy carpet.

Elsa had witnessed the interaction from the door of her study. She fought back tears of anguish at the bitterness and vitriol that permeated Jon's once-angelic voice. How had her baby become a bully? Where was the sweet, innocent child she loved so dearly? With a weary sigh, she set down the document she was working on, and stepped quietly into the hallway. She whispered some heartfelt words of apology to the maid and slipped a few extra coins into her hand. Then she went to inform Anna of what had happened.

"Jon needs some discipline. He can't keep treating people this way. Yesterday he spat in Kai's face because he didn't get the brand of chocolate he wanted." The Snow Queen hated giving out punishments, especially to her own children. But drastic preventative measures were needed to rein in Jon's misbehavior, and unfortunately, only she had the authority to discipline the young prince.

Anna winced at the grim determination in her sister's voice. "The poor boy lost his father. Isn't that enough punishment already? Don't you think we should cut him some slack?"

Elsa shook her head. "Don't forget, we lost our parents too. Both of them, not just one. Jon will keep using this as a license, especially if he knows that we're making excuses for him."

Anna's bright turquoise eyes shone with concern. "But we were much older when Mama and Papa died. Jon is only eight. Maybe he's still struggling to make sense what happened, and this is only a temporary phase. Promise you won't be too hard on him. Right now he needs your love… much more than he needs to be taught a lesson."

At these words, Elsa softened. Her nurturing instincts as a big sister and mother prevailed over her sense of fairness as a ruler. "I promise."

* * *

A soft, somber knock on the door caught Jon's attention. Earlier that day, Robert had asked him to build a snowman after his umpteenth demand to be left in peace. His anger flared to life. In fact, it was this very same mentality of doing whatever he wanted and refusing to listen, with no regard for others —a mindset so characteristic of Robbie—that led to Daddy's death!

The child stomped across the room and jerked the door open. "I've told you a million times not to come back!" Jon screamed with such force and ferocity, he could feel his throat tear. Without thinking, he raised his hands and fired a volley of icicles at the target of his aggravation, wanting this oblivious idiot—whoever he or she was—to taste just a tiny part of the horror that ravaged his insides.

Elsa quickly held up a hand to deflect the blow. The boy calmed down at the sight of his mother. The anger receded slightly from his eyes, but his posture remained confrontational, and his tone as scathing as an eight year-old could manage. "You're here to punish me for being mean to poor innocent Robbie, aren't you? Did I hurt his little feelings?"

"I'm not here to punish you, snowflake. I just want to give you a hug." Elsa knelt down slowly and held out her arms. Bit by bit, Jon's resistance vanished. His defiance melted away to reveal what truly lay behind that ruthless, uncaring façade: a hurt and frightened child. An eight year-old boy whose perfect world had been thrown into complete and utter disarray. He threw himself into his mother's arms, and was gathered in.

For five minutes, not a word was uttered. Elsa patted Jon soothingly on the back, her heart breaking as he sobbed into her shoulder.

"I miss Daddy too, sweetie."

"This is all Robert's fault!" Jon screamed through his tears. Clouds of snow and ice swirled through the air. "I hate him! I wish he died instead!"

Those words were like a dull dagger through the heart. Elsa chose her words carefully, wanting to make Jon feel loved and supported, without condoning his unilateral condemnation of his little brother. Emotions were fragile, and one poorly-chosen word could destroy what tenuous bonds there were left in their family. "Daddy loved you so much, snowflake. I know he would have done the same for you. Mommy would too…" Fighting back tears, she continued, "No matter what happens, I will never stop loving you. Always remember that."

"Jon, I know you're angry with your brother. You don't have to play with Robbie or talk to him. But I plead with you not to hate your brother. We're a family… If we break apart, we have nothing left."

Elsa stopped to think. Jon's outburst must have been set off by Robert asking him to play earlier. The younger boy's lighthearted attitude must have been misconstrued as a sign of indifference to their father's death. "Sometimes it might seem as if Robbie doesn't really care about what happened. He might seem insensitive or oblivious at times. But one day when he is older, he will understand. When the time comes, I know he will miss Daddy every bit as much as you do."

Jon fired another blast of ice across the room, nearly impaling his mother through the hand. "Who's side are you on, anyways?"

"I'm not on anyone's side," Elsa patiently explained. "All I'm saying is—

"If Robbie didn't run off on his own, Daddy would still be alive! I hate him! He is not my brother!"

Once again, Elsa wanted to point out that Robert wasn't the only one guilty of misbehavior that day. All three children had left the campsite without supervision, after they were specifically instructed not to. But it would be pointless to try and convince Jon that his anger was not fully justified. It would only further his feelings of resentment, if it appeared that his mother was taking sides and negating his thoughts.

There was nothing left to be said. Elsa sat silently on the bed, holding Jon in her arms and rocking him as if he were an infant again, until the boy fell into an exhausted slumber.

**Apologies for the delay in posting! As you can tell, writing family interactions is not my forte!**


	11. The Weight of the Crown

**Question:**** Am I making Elsa too harsh or lenient on Jon? I don't have children yet, and (thankfully) have yet to deal with major incidences of grief. Somehow I felt that the interaction between Elsa and Jon could have been written more realistically. Is there something I should've done differently?**

**I feel Jon is in need of discipline, so he will receive some in this chapter. **

**Without further ado, Chapter 11:**

"What do you mean you've run out?" Nine year-old Jon's eyes flashed with anger as he leaned forward, slamming his fists on the countertop.

Isabella was taken aback by his rudeness. She had interacted with the young princes dozens of times in years past, as the boys made frequent trips to the bakery to quench their pathological cravings for sugar. It was a trait they had inherited from their mother and aunt. Never before had she seen Jon so angry and aggressive.

The nervous young woman gave him a pacifying pat on the hand. "The next batch of chocolate cake is already in the oven, sweetie. In the meantime, you can—"

"It's _Your Highness_ to you!" Jon barked.

"Your Highness," Isabella curtsied, "The last slice was just bought by Mr. Hansen. We'll have more ready in thirty minutes."

"Where did he go?" Jon demanded.

"I'm sorry?"

Jon gave an impatient, exasperated huff. "I asked you where Mr. Hansen went after buying the cake! What part of that don't you understand?"

"Forgive me, Your Highness. Last I saw, Mr. Hansen was on his way to the marketplace ten minutes ago. I assume he was—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't care." Jon waved his hand dismissively and walked out the door. He pushed people aside as he strode down block after block, in search of his quarry. Finally, as he rounded a corner and caught sight of a middle-aged man wearing a straw hat and pushing a wagon full of fresh produce, Jon picked up his pace.

"Mr. Hansen!" Jon called out as he approached.

The man turned and gave a warm smile. "Prince Jon," he dipped into a bow at the sight of the young royal.

But Jon was in no mood for pleasantries. He got straight to the point. "You took my cake," he declared curtly.

"Excuse me?"

Jon's tone became harsher. "I said, you ate my slice of cake!"

Mr. Hansen scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm sorry, but I don't quite follow. I was indeed at the bakery this morning, and I did purchase a slice of choc—"

"Give it to me!" Before Mr. Hansen could register his confusion at those words, Jon repeated himself. "That was my slice of cake that you took. I go there every Friday morning."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know." Comprehension dawned on his rugged, tanned features. "You see, today is my mother's eightieth birthday, and she loves chocolate. That's the only reason I bought the cake. I'm sure that in a few minutes, they'll have another one ready for you."

Jon was in no mood to be rebuffed. "Do you know who I am?" he snapped, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"Your Highness, I do, but—"

Jon puffed out his chest indignantly, his stance defiant and confrontational. How dare this lowly peasant defy him? "I command you to hand over that slice of cake. Now."

Adam Hansen may have been little more than a local produce farmer, but he was also a rugged and independent man. One who neither bullied others, nor allowed himself to be bullied. He descended from a proud lineage of farmers who worked hard, believed in fair play, and took tremendous pride in their simple but honest livelihood. He was never one to delegate respect out of obligation or tradition, firmly believing that respect must be earned.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I cannot agree to that. I waited in line this morning and bought the cake myself. It wouldn't be fair if you simply took it from me. You must learn to be patient and wait your turn."

Jon was completely unaffected by his pontification. He spat viciously, "I am the Crown Prince of Arendelle, and you will treat me with the respect I deserve!" The boy vigorously jabbed a finger over his shoulder, pointing at the massive marble statue of Elsa that dominated the town square. "You see that? One day that will be a statue of me."

The boy's outburst revealed just how fundamentally flawed his understanding of leadership and responsibility was. The little rascal needed to have some perspective knocked into him. Mr. Hansen knelt down to Jon's level, and spoke firmly but patiently. "Throughout our history, nearly a hundred men and women have sat on the throne of Arendelle. So why is it that only a few—your mother included—have received such an honor?" He gestured vaguely at the statue.

Jon continued to pout angrily, but appeared to be at least somewhat listening. Mr. Hansen continued, "Let me tell you why. Because these individuals truly earned the love and admiration of the people, through great things they did. Not simply because of their title. Through compassion, hard work and sacrifice, your mother made great strides for this kingdom. She made Arendelle a better, safer, more comfortable place for all its citizens. That is why she gets respect. That is why she has a statue. Not because of who she is, but because of what she's done. Respect must be earned, not given."

Jon's face flushed crimson with mortification. "Just wait till I tell Mama how you disrespected me! She'll have you flogged and put in the dungeons for talking to me that way!"

Mr. Hansen shook his head slowly and sadly. "Shame on you, Prince Jon," he whispered hoarsely. "If your mother were here, she would be so disappointed in your behavior."

By now, Jon had completely forgotten about the slice of cake. This commoner had disrespected his sovereignty and shamed him in public. With his pride wounded and his patience pushed to its absolute limits, Jon snapped. A haze of red clouded his vision. All he knew was that he wanted to punish this mouthy peasant who dared insult his future king. The nine year-old very deliberately fired a powerful blast of ice from his right hand, shattering a rear wheel of Mr. Hansen's cart. The force of the impact echoed violently through earth and sky, sending fragments of splintered wood ricocheting in all directions.

Mr. Hansen gave an indignant shout. "Hey, you can't do that!"

"I can, and I have." Another streak of ice flew from the boy's fingertips, demolishing a second wheel and sending the contents of the wagon spilling onto the ground.

By now, Mr. Hansen was scrambling about on his hands and knees, desperately trying to salvage his goods. Complete and utter dismay was etched into every line of his ruddy, wrinkled face. Months of planting and harvesting, and countless drops of blood and sweat had been spent to produce such a bountiful yield. Jon gave him a haughty smirk and shot a third blast of ice, smashing all the fruits and vegetables into pulp.

* * *

"Let me go, you big bully!" The enraged and indignant nine year-old wriggled furiously and attempted to kick his captor in the shins. "How dare you put your hands on me! Who do you think you are?"

Kai tightened his grip and glared down at the young royal. "Young man, you disgrace yourself and your mother with this shameful conduct."

"I hate you! Let me go!" Jon stomped on Kai's foot as hard as he could, but the large man would not relinquish his hold.

Kai shook his head firmly and looked the boy straight in the eye. "If you were my son, believe me, I would whip you raw. If you were my son, you would receive no fewer than three dozen strokes of the belt. But as you are not, I will leave you to your mother."

As Jon continued to struggle and complain and issue threats, Kai dragged him into the castle gates and up the stairs, before depositing him in the hallway outside the royal library. He quickly informed Elsa of what had happened, before bowing and dismissing himself.

"Come in, my son." Jon gingerly stepped into the room, his head lowered and his heart pounding with trepidation. He really blew it this time. He had gone too far. The boy trembled as he imagined his mother's reaction to his latest episode of misbehavior. Terrifying visions flashed through his mind as stood awaiting the wrath of the Snow Queen. His eyes drifted nervously towards a thick leather cord draped over the arm of the sofa, no doubt ready to shred his backside into mincemeat.

Elsa set down the document she was writing to the Southern Isles, and turned to face her firstborn. "Kai told me what happened in the marketplace today." She paused, allowing him a chance to explain himself. To tell his side of the story.

When the silence remained unbroken, she continued, "You seem to think you can do whatever you want with no repercussions, simply because you are the Crown Prince of Arendelle." Her voice was dangerously soft.

The accusation stung. How dare anyone shame the future king, the heir apparent, in such a fashion? Indignation and self-righteousness blazed through the cerulean eyes of the young prince. "That peasant insulted me!" he spat.

Elsa ran a hand through her neat blonde hair. "Do you have any idea how poorly this reflects upon you as a human being? How immature and self-centered it makes you appear? Jon, why do you do these things? Why?"

"I dunno." Jon rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and pouted. He was sick of that question, and to be perfectly honest, he really didn't know why he behaved the way he did. He was fed up with being hauled around and interrogated like a criminal on trial. _Explain this, apologize for that. Do this, don't do that._ Someone was always bossing him around. It seemed his whole life revolved around being nagged and lectured at by one adult after another. Worst of all, people were constantly telling him to be more like his mother. When would it ever end?

Elsa sensed the pride and rebellion simmering beneath his cool exterior. "Come with me, Jon. There is something I want to show you."

She took his hand and led him down several hallways, until they arrived at an enormous portrait gallery. The walls were adorned with a magnificent lineup of paintings depicting past monarchs on their coronation day. From the ones who founded Arendelle over five centuries ago, to Adgar and finally Elsa. Jon tilted back his head in petrified reverence, utterly transfixed by the strong, imposing effigies that stared back at him. Etched into these walls was a proud legacy that he couldn't wait to become a part of.

Elsa slowly pulled open a drawer, and picked up the scepter and orb that she had held on her coronation day. She gingerly handed them to her son. They were the only objects in the castle that could fully capture his attention and reverence.

"Here, try holding these."

With glowing eyes, the boy reached for the sacred relics. A shuddering spasm of pride and purpose surged through his body as the smooth, cold metal brushed against his fingertips. This was his destiny, his birthright. He gazed longingly at the empty space next to Elsa's portrait, awaiting the distant someday when King Jon of Arendelle would take his rightful place in history. One day, he would proudly stand before a nation of adoring subjects, and take the sacred oath to be the unquestioned ruler and protector of his dominion. He would never be challenged, never be scolded or lectured at ever again.

Elsa set the crown gently upon his platinum blonde head, and turned him towards a body-length mirror. "Whoa!" Jon beamed at his reflection.

"You look wonderful, Jon. One day, it will all be yours. One day, your portrait will be on these walls." Her expression softened slightly. "One day you will wear the crown, my son, but it does not make you a king. Jon, it is only a piece of metal. Crowns have been worn by all sorts of men throughout history. A good king must show wisdom, compassion, and fairness to everyone. He cares for his subjects as his own children, and commits himself to bettering all of their lives."

"He must be strong too." Jon proudly tugged the oversized ceremonial robe over his shoulders, and smiled up at his mother. "A king doesn't let anyone push him around or disrespect him." He twirled the scepter about his fingers.

"Yes, he must be strong indeed." Elsa placed a hand on the young prince's shoulder and knelt down to his level. "But Jon, strength isn't about using your title to intimidate people. That is the behavior of a tyrant and a bully. A good king must be able to stand his ground and be assertive, but only to combat injustice and stand up for what is right. Not to force others to give him whatever he wants. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mama." A genuine look of contrition flashed in his eyes. Jon began to get scared, and trembled as a repressed memory began to resurface.

* * *

_Flashback:_

Six year-old Jon glanced up and down the aisle of the candy store, salivating at row after row of delicious chocolate truffles. Dark chocolate with walnut. Milk chocolate with strawberry cream. Dozens of varieties that he had yet to taste. No one was watching. So as six year-olds were apt to do, Jon smoothly tucked a handful of sweets into his pocket, and left the store undetected.

His clandestine operation remained undiscovered, until the royal family returned home and two year-old Robert began hollering that he wanted some candy too. This immediately caught Fredrik's attention.

"How on earth did you pay for all this?" Fredrik raised an eyebrow in confusion as he sifted through dozens of expensive chocolate pieces.

"Jon taked it," Robbie responded innocently.

That was all Fredrik needed to hear. Lying and stealing were unforgivable. These would not be dismissed or marginalized under the pretense of normal childhood mischief. He marched his eldest boy straight back to the candy store, and made him explain. Dozens of people were watching and listening. Embarrassed, terrified, and in tears, Jon confessed.

The store clerk responded graciously, "You can have it, since you were brave enough to tell the truth."

Fredrik shook his head resolutely, "No, he cannot have it. It isn't his candy." Without another word, he removed his belt and whipped it across Jon's bottom with a deafening crack. More and more people huddled around the store windows to watch, intrigued yet terrified at the wrath of their king, but Fredrik made no motion to shoo them away. He continued to mete out discipline until he had nearly worn a hole into the child's pants. Long, slippery ropes of tears and mucus ceaselessly slithered down Jon's cheeks, forming a sloppy puddle on his shirt, before dripping onto the floor. He screamed and bawled and promised to never do it again, but received no rest until all twenty strokes were administered.

Finally, his punishment was mercifully over. Jon collapsed to the floor, his knees trembling and a violent fit of sobs rendering him completely incoherent. Fredrik shook his belt in Jon's face. "If this ever happens again, you get thirty lashes, pants down. You hate it when I punish you? Well, I hate it even more when you steal." Then he grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him through the public streets and back to the castle.

The incident was never mentioned from that day onward, but Jon never dared entertain the idea of shoplifting ever again.

* * *

Elsa must have sensed his trepidation, as she mollified his unspoken fears. "Jon, I will not hit you, and I promise that I never will." His breath escaped in a quivering sigh, as relief flooded his heart. But Jon's exhilaration faltered at her next words.

"However, your behavior today was completely out of line, and you must atone for what you've done. For the rest of the month, you will shovel the stables and wash dishes. With your birthday money, you will buy Mr. Hansen a new wagon and compensate him three times the cost of his merchandise."

Jon gasped. Never in his life had he been asked to dirty his hands. It was demeaning and completely beneath someone of his birth. How shameful it would be for all of Arendelle to see their Crown Prince on his hands and knees, toiling like a common dirt farmer? "But Mama," he started to complain.

"No excuses." She shut him up at once. "You are old enough to understand that actions have consequences. The same laws of human decency apply to everyone in this kingdom, royalty or not."

Jon lowered his head. "I'll do as you've asked, Mama."

Elsa smiled and patted him on the back. "There's a good boy. Accountability is the mark of a king in training."

As unruly and recalcitrant as he was, Jon idolized Elsa. He was entranced by the soft and graceful, yet unquestioningly authoritative manner in which she spoke. How the people of Arendelle glowed with respect and affection at the mere mention of her. How the Snow Queen could command respect without raising her voice or losing her temper. Jon knew he had a lot of growing and maturing left to do, if he was ever to anything remotely close to the leader his mother was.

**Prince Brat has been punished.**


	12. Chocolate

***Jon is misbehaving again. Elsa asks him to stop***

**Jon: "You're too much of a pussy to stop me."**

**Elsa: "Oh yeah? Try me." **

***She freezes his hands and feet in place, and delivers 100 lashes across his rear end. Or until the belt snaps in half, whichever comes first.***

* * *

**Kidding aside, do you guys think Elsa should give Jon a spanking sometime in the next few chapters? If he has another "incident" of equal magnitude to what he did in Chapter 11? **

**Another question for those who read Playing Dirty: Would you like to see Hans make an appearance? If so, in what context?**

**Anyways, there's more of Disciplinarian Elsa in this chapter, since that seems to be what people want!**

**Chapter 12:**

Jon wiped his hands clean after finishing a stack of dirty dishes. It had hardly been a week, and already he was regretting his behavior in the marketplace that day. "Three more days, and I'm done."

As Jon passed through the halls, a blur of color caught his eye. A portrait of his father hung on the wall, frozen in time. Tears sprang to the boy's eyes, as he reminisced upon the blissful days that would never return. Of the happy family that would never again be complete.

A furtive glance over his shoulder revealed that he was all alone. The young prince began to involuntarily speak aloud.

"I could feel you watching me, Papa. I guess that means you saw what happened last week. You must be disappointed in me too. I know I was wrong, but Mr. Hansen made me so angry, I couldn't control myself. I know he wouldn't have talked to Mama the way he talked to me… It's just… I'm so frustrated all the time. I feel I'm under so much pressure, and everyone is always picking on me. Everybody says that I need to be more responsible and mature if I want to be a good king for Arendelle someday. People are always telling me to be more like Mama, but they don't respect me the way they respect Mama. It's not fair…"

"I feel like I'm all alone. Everybody is constantly telling me what to do, but nobody seems to really care how I feel. Except for Mama. And Robbie makes me so mad all the time. He doesn't miss you as much as I do. He was upset for a few weeks, and then he was back to normal again. I don't see how he can get over this so easily. It almost seems like he doesn't care, and it makes me so angry when he asks me to play. Sometimes I wish Robbie would go away, so I never have to see him again."

As his monologue came to a close and Jon turned to leave, he uttered one final vow. "I wish you were here, Papa. And I promise I'll try to behave myself."

Jon was about to pull open the door to his room and disappear into his sanctuary away from the cruel, oppressive outside world, when a series of bouncy footsteps interrupted the silence. He turned to see Robbie skipping towards him. His resolution was instantly forgotten, as the source of his chronic aggravation came into view.

"Guess what day it is!" Robert sang.

"What?" the older boy responded in a cool, emotionless tone.

"It's my birthday! Today I'm five. That's this many!" Robert held up five fingers. "Mommy said now I'm a big boy and I can learn to do rithmetrick."

"It's _arithmetic_, you dumb piece of reindeer poop. And I learned it when I was four," Jon muttered under his breath. Fortunately, Robert did not hear, as he continued to babble excitedly.

"We're having a party tonight! And Gerda is making a big chocolate—"

_Chocolate._ That simple word carried a painful connotation far deeper than its superficial meaning. It reminded Jon of what happened in the marketplace last week. The Crown Prince of Arendelle had been scolded and lectured at by a farmer, hauled through the streets like a common criminal, and made to wash dishes and shovel stables. Kai had even suggested that Elsa administer him a whipping. The nerve of that man! Jon's dormant anger and indignation at his shoplifting escapade three years ago also flared back to life. Being shamed in public. Papa's belt biting into his flesh. Hundreds of people receiving knowledge of his crime, and watching as he was reduced to a sobbing wreck. The boy had also been sent to bed without supper that night, and a month had passed before the welts across his bottom fully healed. _Come to think of it, I only got caught that time because Robbie made so much noise. It's his fault I was punished. Robbie has been nothing but trouble since he was two years old. _

All that humiliation and injustice had been suffered over some chocolate cake and candies. Jon's icy cold skin suddenly became hot.

"… And then after that, Mommy is taking us to—"

"Enough." Jon snapped. "I don't want to hear any more." He began to push the door shut.

Hurt and confusion seeped into Robert's cheerful expression. "Jon, aren't you coming to my party?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Jon huffed impatiently. "Why do you even care? You should be happy I'm not coming. That way there's more cake for you." His voice dripped with smugness and sarcasm.

Robbie's lower lip quivered as tears welled in his eyes. "It won't be as fun if you aren't there." But Jon had already slammed the door before he could finish.

"Go away!" an angry voice echoed from behind the door.

* * *

"I think Jon is sick," Robert announced.

Elsa looked up from her paperwork. "What makes you say that, sweetie?"

"He doesn't want to come to my party. And he doesn't like chocolate anymore."

Elsa winced at the irony of Robert's words. The little boy had no idea how accurate his assessment was, albeit not in the literal sense. Jon was well physically, but his heart and soul were as sick as could be. The Snow Queen feared that her eldest son had been irreversibly altered by the tragedy, and only in her memory did there still exist the sweet, lovable child he once was.

"Did Jon say why he's not coming?" Elsa pressed gently. She suspected that there was more to the brothers' interaction, than a simple _no_ from Jon.

The five year-old shook his head. "No. He told me to go away." His next words tore her heart to pieces.

"Mommy, I don't think Jon loves me anymore." Robert sucked his thumb. "Is it because I did something bad?"

"No, Robbie. You've been a very good boy." Elsa picked Robert up and set him in her lap. She wanted so badly to assure the poor child that his brother still loved him. But that was not her promise to keep. "Jon misses Daddy very much. He is having a really hard time, and so sometimes he will say mean things because he feels so much hurt. I will talk to your brother, and help him find a more positive way to deal with his feelings."

Robbie leaned against his mother's chest. "I miss Daddy too. But you said that Daddy is in heaven with Grandma and Grandpa and Sven. And one day we will see him again, right?"

Elsa kissed him lightly on the cheek. "That's right, sweetie. We will always be sad when someone we love has died. But then we can be happy, when we realize that they are safe in heaven, where nothing can hurt them." She wiped away a tear and gazed into his bright green eyes. _Fredrik's eyes_, she thought affectionately. "Mommy misses Daddy too. But nothing can ever take away all the wonderful memories of him that we already have. Thinking about that makes me feel better."

The five year-old perked up. "Mommy, can we leave a slice of cake for Jon? Maybe it will make him feel better too!"

"Of course. That's very sweet of you, Robbie." The littlest prince scampered away to deliver his message to Gerda, knocking over at least three suits of armors as he bolted down the stairs.

Elsa smiled to herself. _Just like his Auntie Anna._ It felt so good to hear the castle ringing with laughter and children's footsteps racing through the halls. But there was another child in the castle whom she wanted to be happy too. Elsa rose from her heavy oaken chair and treaded softly down the thick carpet, until she arrived at Jon's door.

She lifted a hand and rapped gently on the door. "Jon?" Elsa called out softly. Remembering his precarious emotional state and tenuous control over his powers, she cautiously took a step back and held up both hands defensively.

But Jon was surprisingly calm when the door swung open. The resentment was still evident in his eyes, but he set off no haphazard explosions of ice. That was a substantial improvement from last time.

Elsa took a deep breath and spoke diplomatically. "Jon, don't you think you've been angry at your brother for long enough?"

Jon glared crossly at his mother. "Why are you always on Robbie's side? You're always defending him!"

"I've told you before, I'm not on anyone's side. But it's not healthy to carry so much anger with you. Jon, it also hurts the rest of us to see you so upset, because we care about you."

The nine year-old rolled his eyes sardonically. "Whatever."

"Watch your attitude, young man," Elsa chided. When Jon's disrespectful pout vanished, she continued in a softer tone. "Jon, you don't have to come to the party. But you really should try and make peace with your brother. Robbie really misses you. He can tell that you're unhappy, and he wants to help."

Guilt and contrition nudged at Jon's conscience. He had behaved badly. "Yes Mama, I'll try," he mumbled.

Elsa smiled at her firstborn. "I know you can do it."

* * *

Jon was sitting quietly in his room, skimming unseeingly through an old treasury of children's fairy tales, when a soft shuffling outside the door caught his attention. The young prince reminisced upon the vow he made to his mother. He would try to be a little less unpleasant. Try to make peace with Robbie. Or at the very least, he would try not to explode in a fit of anger and self-pity every time his little brother stepped into view.

He glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. The castle was quiet, indicating that the party must be over by now. Perhaps this would be a good chance for him to talk to Robbie in a more subdued and less festive environment, which would surely be conducive to a smooth interaction.

But as Jon pulled open the door with elevated spirits and budding hopes, his resolve crumbled at once. Sitting on the hallway floor was a thick slice of chocolate cake on a porcelain dish, and a folded sheet of parchment with a poorly-drawn crayon snowflake. It was a crude illustration of two boys playing in the snow. Underneath was a line of childish manuscript. _I lov you Jon. Pleese bild a snoman with me._

_I told you a million times I didn't want anything to do with that stupid party! Do you ever listen?_ Jon screamed in silent frustration. He had made his point clear, and Robbie had tried yet again to make him part of the celebration that he was so reluctant to join. What must he do to make Robbie understand?

Jon gripped the paper in his trembling hands. He wanted to tear apart this grotesque misrepresentation of reality. To destroy this taunting effigy of the happy childhood that was gone forever. Without another thought, he tore the drawing into pieces, and scattered the bits of paper all over the carpet in front of Robert's door. Then Jon picked up the dish of chocolate cake, and smashed it against the wall with all the force and fury he could muster. The floors and walls were instantly littered with broken glass and spattered chocolate that spanned at least ten meters of the hallway. _There, _he thought viciously, as he retreated back behind his door. _That'll teach Robbie a lesson._

The commotion would not go unnoticed, as Jon heard a door creak open down the hall, followed by a child's heartbroken wail. "Mommy!"

The nine year-old continued listening for several minutes, to the muffled sounds of Elsa comforting Robbie and sending him off to sleep. Soon he could hear the rapid footsteps of his mother approaching.

Jon was expecting this. Before Elsa could deliver a single knock, he pulled the door open in a swift, deliberate motion. But he took a quick step back at the unfamiliar and uncharacteristic anger flashing in his mother's eyes.

"Jon, what is the meaning of this?" Elsa swept her arm back and gestured furiously at the mess in the hallway.

When he gave no response, she continued in a fast, furious tone. "Jon, shame on you! This is getting ridiculous! It's okay to be upset, but this lack of civility needs to stop. Can't you see that Robbie is trying—"

At these words, Jon became angry too. "Robbie has been evil since the day he was born! He's been ruining my life forever!" he spat viciously. "I was only four years old, but I remember you almost died giving birth to him! Then he got me in trouble at the candy store, when he ratted me out to Daddy! And then—"

"Jon, that's enough!"

"Since when does Robbie care about anyone besides himself? He doesn't even know what I've been through! None of you have any idea!"

Jon's impudence withered as Elsa took on a steely, commanding voice that he seldom heard her use. "Jon, stop it. You aren't being fair. You're not the only person who's suffering. Robbie also lost his father, and Uncle Kristoff lost Sven last month. But they aren't lashing out at everyone. The way you've been treating people is inexcusable. That poor maid never did anything to you! What about Mr. Hansen? Kai?"

"What do you mean Robbie _lost_ his father? He's the reason Daddy is dead! He always ruins everything! Why did you even let him come with us?"

"Let me also remind you that you and Kristen also left the campsite. Robbie wasn't the only one who did something wrong. Put your self-righteousness aside, and apologize to your brother!" The hallway was getting dangerously cold, as Mother and Son shouted back and forth.

Jon couldn't dispute that fact. But logic and emotion were completely immiscible, and feelings could not be argued out of existence. "Fine, be that way. I'm going to bed!" he snapped crossly. Jon reached for the doorknob, but found his door frozen shut with a coat of ice he did not create. He tried to unfreeze the seal, but he was far too angry and Elsa's powers were far stronger.

"Unfreeze this right now!" he screamed furiously, his eyes wet with angry tears. Elsa shook her head firmly.

"You are responsible for cleaning up this mess. Now. I want this hallway completely pristine."

"That will take all night!" Jon protested.

"Well, you should've thought of that before," Elsa tried to remain calm, but her voice trembled with anger and grief. "You may use the restroom or get a drink of water at any time. But you may not go to sleep or have breakfast until the job is done." Elsa turned and strode in the opposite direction, trying to hide the tears that continuously streamed down her cheeks. _Why, Jon? Why?_

**I'm sorry I let Sven die! But if you think about it, it's been 12-13 years since the events of Frozen. That makes him an old reindeer recovering from a nasty injury. More on Anna/Kristoff's perspective in later chapters!**


	13. King Hans of the Southern Isles

**Guest**** and ****Guest:**** I will have Fredrik appear in one of Elsa's dreams in later chapters! We will learn more about him then. I'll also consider delving more into how Jon's psyche was affected by his very drastic punishment. Yes, Fredrik has some temper control issues. Thank you for such a long and comprehensive review!**

**A very special someone will be making an appearance! Yes, you read that correctly. Someone from Elsa's past will be coming… to give our dear Prince Brat a little talk. **

**To those of you who didn't read ****Playing Dirty****, feel free to PM me for an explanation if anything doesn't make sense in these next few chapters. There is also a brief recap in Chapter 1 of this story. **

**Chapter 13:**

An empty seat at the dining table during breakfast was no strange occurrence. It was not at all uncommon for Elsa to rise in the wee hours of the morning, when the castle was still dark and the kingdom devoid of activity, to begin her day. But it was very atypical for the Snow Queen to not be found in any of her usual locations. Her study was empty, as was the library. Nor was she in the castle gardens. Or in her bedchambers. Or giving lessons to nine year-old Jon or five year-old Robert, whose cheeks were stained with watery residues that morning.

Anna was utterly convinced that something was amiss. Her sister was impeccably organized, and never deviated from her routine. The redhead patrolled through the halls, searching room after room. Finally, a draft of icy wind emanating from a seldom-traveled corridor on the fourth floor gave her a hint. Anna pushed open the door to a room that she hardly knew existed, and found a very despondent Elsa sitting hunched over on the floor. Her shoulders heaved with silent sobs as she glanced down at an object in her hands.

"Elsa, what's wrong?"

No response. Anna took a cautious step forward, careful not to slip on the ice that was crawling across the floor. When she reached Elsa's side after nearly a minute of awkward stumbling, she wrapped a comforting arm around the older woman's shoulder.

The blonde tilted her head sideways and peeked at Anna out the corner of one eye. "I don't get it." Fresh tears leaked down both sides of her face. "What am I doing wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, confused. A closer look revealed that Elsa held in her hands a framed portrait of four year-old Jon proudly holding an infant Robert in his arms. His bright sapphire eyes glowed with pride and affection. Then she understood. "Did something happen with Jon?"

Elsa nodded through her tears. Anna patted her sympathetically on the back and scooted closer, but made no motion to speak. With hands trembling and a violent fit of sobs threatening to burst from her chest, she explained all that had happened the previous night. "I think I'm losing Jon," Elsa admitted. "No matter what I say, I can't get through to him. I do believe that deep down inside, Jon doesn't want to act this way. He has shown some remorse, and he's promised to try and change. But all the bitterness and negativity is just too much to overcome. So his resolution never lasts more than a week."

Anna patted her comfortingly on the hand. "Have you ever thought of having someone else talk to Jon? Elsa, don't you see? Jon is afraid of you."

"Afraid of me?" Elsa was completely confused by these words. She racked her brains and scoured her memory for every interaction she'd ever had with Jon in the past. Perhaps she overreacted at some point? Did she ever lose her temper and say something hurtful? But her ruminations came up empty. "Why would Jon be afraid of me? Do you think I've been too harsh on him?"

The redhead chuckled. "I don't mean it that way. We all know you're the nicest, warmest, gentlest person ever. What I mean is, Jon is intimidated by who you are. He idolizes you. He wants so much to be just like you when he grows up, and he's afraid he'll never be good enough. I know it makes you awkward and uncomfortable to hear tales of the super awesome badass Snow Queen everywhere you go. Now imagine how that makes Jon feel."

"Do you think you could talk to Jon?" Elsa asked hesitantly. "Or maybe Kristoff? Jon is convinced that I could never understand how he feels. Maybe Kristoff could relate to him better, since he lost someone too." Elsa began tearing up again at the memory of the lovable reindeer that was laid to rest just last month. An ever-present friend, and a fearless warrior that had helped save Arendelle with his tenacity and courage thirteen years ago.

"You lost someone too, Elsa. We all did. Anyways, I have an even better idea." A mischievous glint began settling into Anna's turquoise eyes. "Isn't it almost the tenth anniversary of the Great Poison Fiasco? Didn't we invite a certain _Uncle Hans_ to town next week for the Harvest Festival? Perhaps a neutral third-party perspective is what Jon needs."

For the first time in weeks, Elsa smiled.

* * *

All of Arendelle was buzzing with excitement as the people prepared for the famous September Harvest Festival. The unprecedented number of vendors erecting tents and booths were a powerful testament to the strength of the people. The thousands of pumpkins that were carved, and the wreaths of flowers and autumn leaves that hung from every building proved that any tragedy could be overcome through love and resilience. Love had the power to save lives, restore hope, and transform a man who once tried to murder children into one who tirelessly advocated for their well-being.

But an undercurrent of somberness permeated the cheery atmosphere. It was indeed the tenth anniversary of the terrible tragedy that almost brought Arendelle to its knees. The tenth anniversary of a joyous occasion becoming an unmitigated disaster. The tenth anniversary of an entire generation nearly being snuffed out of existence.

The tenth anniversary of Elsa lying quietly atop a stony altar, preparing to surrender her life for the salvation of the people. Elsa stumbling through the wilderness cold, hungry and fatigued; bloody, bruised and broken-boned, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice.

The wounds ran deep, and not all were ready to forgive. It was for this very reason a soft murmur of indignant whispers could be heard, as a ship flying the flag of the Southern Isles docked in the main harbor. A gangplank was lowered, a bugle sounded, and a tall auburn-haired man flanked by guards walked regally down the length of pier, before making his way through the castle gates.

King Hans of the Southern Isles had arrived. But before he could be properly introduced, a little blond-haired boy pushed past the guards and enveloped him in a tight hug. "Uncle Hans!" Five year-old Robert shrieked with delight. He began bouncing up and down in excitement. "Pick me up!" But before Hans could make a single move, Robbie grabbed him by the hands and began sprinting towards the Great Hall. "Mommy, Mommy! He's here!"

Hans planted a gentle kiss on Elsa's hand. "Looking good, Frosty. Thirteen years since we first met, and you haven't aged one bit. Gee, what other magic do you have? Do you crap rainbows and unicorns too?"

Elsa blushed. "Hans, language!"

Robert cut in. "Mommy, can I show Uncle Hans my birthday presents?"

"Of course you may, sweetie." The little prince grabbed Hans and was about to drag him to the next room, when a soft patter of footsteps in the doorway stopped him. Jon entered the room with a scowl, presumably to berate his brother for making too much noise. But his face lit up at the sight of their guest. "Uncle Hans! You're here!"

Hans clapped the boy jovially on the shoulder. "How're you doing, bud? I've missed you guys!"

For the first time in nearly a year, the ruefulness vanished completely from Jon's eyes, supplanted by genuine warmth. "Uncle Hans, we're so happy to see you! The Harvest Festival starts tomorrow. It'll be the most amazing thing ever! You'll never have more fun in your life. We have to enter the pumpkin carving contest together! And the pig-wrestling! Auntie Anna and Uncle Kristoff have won the pig-wrestling for seven years in a row. We have to beat them!"

At the mention of the Harvest Festival, a noticeable ambiance of guilt and contrition began to cloud Hans' features, and he became very conspicuously uneasy. Hans didn't want anything to do with the Harvest Festival after what happened ten years ago. But how could he dampen the children's enthusiasm? The red-haired man forced himself to smile and tried to suppress the agitation from his demeanor.

Robbie piped up. "We also get to throw sponges and Mommy and Auntie Anna! That's most people's favorite thing. But my favorite is the magician!"

At the word _magician_, Hans involuntarily gasped aloud. Drops of cold, clammy sweat trickled down his forehead. Memories of the wicked, treacherous deeds he performed ten years ago vividly flashed through his mind. It was a torturous recollection that he had worked long and hard to banish from the minds of all who knew him, wishing to forever bury it in the sands of time. That terrible word invoked a plethora of guilt and self-loathing that made Hans want to scratch out his own eyes and tear open his entrails. His knees buckled, and he sank to the floor.

Elsa knelt by his side, her eyes fraught with concern. "Hans, it's all right. Snap out of it." Hans continued to tremble and sweat profusely. Jon and Robert exchanged confused glances. But before they could voice their inquiries, Kai hastily stepped forward and ushered them away.

Tears began welling in Hans' hazel eyes and splashing down his cheeks. "No it's not all right. Oh Elsa, how could I? Those poor children… they were the same ages as Jon and Robbie. And it's my fault you almost died about a hundred times. I'm such a wretched, miserable man. I don't deserve to live…"

Elsa smiled comfortingly and helped Hans to his feet. "I _almost_ died. But because of you, I didn't. Twice you saved my life, and it wasn't easy the second time." She gestured at the missing index finger on his hand. "Then you owned up to what you did, punished yourself, and spent the last ten years making a positive difference in the lives of others."

Hans continued to wail and blubber, as more memories began to resurface. "But I hit you, spat in your face, called you so many horrible names, even tried to rape you..."

"Oh Hans, I forgave you the moment I saw you on your knees, begging Grand Pabbie to spare my life and take yours instead." She took both his hands into her own. "Hans, you're a good man. It's time you forgave yourself."

Hans chuckled darkly. "I guess the kids don't know the truth, otherwise they wouldn't be so fond of their dear Uncle Hans."

Elsa shook her head. "No, I haven't told them yet."

"I think it's time we tell Jon."

Elsa grimaced at this suggestion. "It's an awfully dark and depressing story. Can't hurt to wait a few more years, don't you think? The way Jon has been acting up recently…"

Hans shook his head softly but firmly. "Jon is old enough to understand, and I believe he has the maturity to handle the truth. Besides, I think my little freak-out earlier was more than a little suspicious. More importantly, I think it will be good for him. Jon has to know what you were willing to go through and sacrifice for the people. If you could knock Hans Sebastian Westergard off his high horse, then you can definitely reach through to Jon."

At these words, Elsa softened. Nothing she did seemed to have any long-term effect on Jon's rudeness, hostility, or outlandish sense of entitlement. She was at the end of her rope and was willing to try anything. "I guess you're right," she conceded.

* * *

"Uncle Hans, what happened back there?" Jon knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Hans feigned ignorance.

"Robbie and I were telling you all about the Harvest Festival, when you almost passed out. You still look kinda sick, actually."

Hans tried to breathe normally, but he couldn't stop the accumulation of sweat in his palms or the frantic pounding of his heart. Finally, he found his voice again. "Jon, has your mother ever told you how she got her statue?"

Jon shrugged. "People say she did great things for Arendelle."

Hans' eyes darted back and forth between Jon and Elsa. "Has anyone ever told you what exactly those _great things_ were?" The nine year-old shook his head.

Hans was on the verge of hyperventilation as he continued. "And has your mother ever told you how she got those scars on her wrists? Why her hands are always sore?"

Jon shook his head again. "No. I've always assumed it's because she spends so much time on paperwork. At least that's what Auntie Anna says."

Hans gritted his teeth and uttered his final inquiry. "One more thing. Do you know why some people in Arendelle don't like me?"

The boy was completely taken aback. "I've always wondered about that! Mama said she would tell me when I was older. But Uncle Hans, how can anyone not like you? And why so many random questions?"

Elsa smiled wistfully and patted Jon on the shoulder. "They aren't random, sweetie."

Hans nodded in agreement. "Jon, it's time you learned the truth." Then the auburn-haired man grimaced and cracked his knuckles agonizingly. He drew a deep breath through clenched teeth, and forced himself to keep speaking. "But first, I must tell you some terrible things about myself."

**Chapter 14 comes out later this week! Once again, please let me know if you would like anything explained regarding Hans.**


	14. Hans Confesses

**If you read ****Playing Dirty****, then this chapter will be things you already know! **

**Actually, I take that back. We will learn more about Hans' childhood, and why his father/brothers were so awful. **

**A few readers have asked if there will be any Helsa. Nope! They will remain platonic friends.**

**Warning:**** Hans is still a pervert. **

**Chapter 14:**

Elsa quickly held up her hand before Hans could begin. "Jon," she spoke gently, "What we're about to tell you is a true story. Some parts will be pretty upsetting, and they might make you angry. But I ask that you keep an open mind and let Uncle Hans explain everything, before jumping to conclusions." The boy nodded in agreement and turned his attention to Hans.

Hans took a deep breath. "When I was younger, I did some truly terrible things. Sometimes I still lie awake at night, thinking about the past, hating the man I used to be. I was arrogant, foolish, and full of hatred. It nearly destroyed me. If not for your mother, it would have."

Jon's mouth fell open. "Uncle Hans, you have to be kidding. There's no way you could ever do anything that bad."

Hans smiled ruefully. "We'll let you be the judge of that. Let's start from the beginning. As you probably know, I am the youngest of thirteen brothers. I had a happy childhood, until—"

"Wait," Jon interrupted. "If you have twelve older brothers, how did you become King? What happened to them?"

"I'm getting there. Anyways, when I was little, I had everything a kid could ever want. A loving family and a wonderful home. Everything was perfect, until one terrible incident ruined it all."

Jon was listening intently, and so was Elsa. This was news to her, too. She had known in years past that Hans had an abusive childhood, but he never divulged how it came to be. Hans' eyes glistened with tears as he continued dredging up his wretched, miserable past. "When I was three years old, there was a fire in the castle. Everyone escaped, except for me. I was busy playing, and wasn't aware of what was going on. My mother ran back inside to save me. I was fine, but she wasn't so lucky. More than half of her skin was burned away, and she suffered permanent damage to her bones and internal organs as well. The doctors couldn't do a thing. She would be confined to a bed for the rest of her life."

Hans wiped away a tear. "The rest of my family turned on me after that. They blamed me for what happened to my mother. My father was devastated. He loved her so much. She was the most beautiful woman that ever lived, and… wait. Actually, that's not true. Even she couldn't beat Frosty's nice curvaceous ass or fat juicy tits."

Elsa slapped the side of his head. "Hans, get on with the story!"

"Not even Father Time could destroy those succulent mounds of pure—"

"Hans!"

The former villain grinned sheepishly. "Sorry Frosty, couldn't help myself." His cavalier attitude vanished and was replaced by solemnity. With a heavy sigh, Hans continued the tale. "My father became an alcoholic. He would drink himself into oblivion every night, trying to numb the pain of his loss. But the alcohol also made him angry and violent. He started lashing out at everyone—the castle staff, our citizens, his advisors, my brothers, and especially me. Nothing was ever the same again."

"My three oldest brothers have always been bullies. I was used to them being mean to me. But what really hurt was that they turned the rest of my brothers against me too. They beat me up, broke my toys, and threw me down flights of stairs. I couldn't understand what was going on. I kept trying to play with them as we did before, but they always pushed me away. I didn't have a single friend left in the world."

Elsa laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hans, I'm so sorry. I never knew…"

Hans gave her an appreciative smile and continued. "When I was seven, my mother died from her injuries. My father and brothers got even worse after that. Sometimes I would be locked in the dungeons for a week without food. I was physically and verbally abused almost every day, and I never knew why. Until I was a teenager. One of our most trusted servants, who had been my nanny, told me everything. That was when I snapped."

"It wasn't fair. I didn't start the fire. I didn't ask my mother to run back and save me. I didn't choose for any of this to happen. But my father and brothers were so hurt and upset, they had to blame someone. It's very hard to be impartial and assess a situation rationally, when there are so many emotions involved. They needed an outlet for their anger. So they took it out on me. This is when my downward spiral began. I became mean and spiteful too. I took pleasure in inflicting pain on others. If I couldn't be happy, I didn't want anyone to be. Worst of all, I became hungry for power. An unquenchable thirst to prove myself."

"Thirteen years ago, I was a guest at your mother's coronation. I saw a chance to marry into the throne. Your Auntie Anna was only seventeen at the time, and so naïve. I saw my chance. It was so easy to trick her into believing that I was her Prince Charming. She agreed to marry me at once…" Hans proceeded to describe in great detail and emotion his first attempted usurpation.

"What?" Jon gasped in shock. "You… you tried to kill Mommy and Auntie Anna?"

Hans buried his face in his hands. "It was such a horrible, despicable thing to do. Sometimes I still hate myself for it. But it's nothing compared to what I did three years later."

Elsa nodded solemnly. "Yes, Jon. But please understand that this was a long time ago. Your Auntie Anna and I have completely forgiven him. Uncle Hans has suffered tremendously for the things he did in the past. He has done so much to apologize and correct his mistakes. In fact, he saved my life on two separate occasions. He is a wonderfully changed man, and I am proud to consider him our friend."

At these words, Jon's shock abated slightly. "Uncle Hans, how did you save Mama's life?"

There was no turning back. Hans cringed at the thought of recounting all those repugnant thoughts and behaviors that he so desperately wanted to forever bury in his past. With a quavering sigh, he began the second part of his story. "It's a long story. After I was sent back home, I was put in the dungeons. I spent every waking moment hating Mommy and Auntie Anna. They ruined my plans. They took away my once chance at proving my worth. I felt I was entitled to a throne."

"One day, I bribed the guards into setting me free. As I was wandering through the wilderness, I stumbled upon a cottage hidden deep in the mountains. There lived an ancient sorcerer who was banished for practicing dark arts in the medieval era. I was young and foolish and full of hatred, and offered him a piece of my soul. In return he gave me a bag of magic tricks and a very special poison. After that, ten years ago this very day, I came to Arendelle for revenge…"

* * *

"I spent some time around Arendelle in the two weeks before the Harvest Festival, making observations and collecting as much information as I could. I noticed that your mother had a soft spot for children, and I planned to use that against her. So I entered the Harvest Festival disguised as a magician. So many of people came to watch my magic show. That was when I put my plan into action."

"What did you do?" Jon asked, completely enraptured by the incredulous story he was hearing.

"At the end of my show, I handed out drinks to the crowd. Each cup contained one serving of my very special poison. There were two hundred adults and five hundred children. They all drank it without suspecting a thing. You see, Jon. _That_ is why a lot of people in Arendelle don't like me!" Hans grimaced and began to tremble and sweat profusely. "It was awful. When I close my eyes, I can still hear the screams of people. See children on the ground, writhing in pain, drowning in a pool of their own blood and vomit and urine. Boys and girls your age, Jon… and some of them were Robbie's age or even younger. It felt so good at the time to see them suffer like that. But now when I think about it…" Hans' train of thought derailed into a mess of incoherent sobs and sniffles.

Elsa laid a comforting hand on his back. "Hans, it's okay. It's all in the past."

Jon was motionless and silent as he processed this plethora of groundbreaking information. Finally, a question formulated itself in his mind. "But Uncle Hans, if you wanted revenge on Mommy and Auntie Anna, then why did you poison those people?"

Hans calmed down again. "Glad you asked. You see, Jon, my main goal was to become King of Arendelle. I could only accomplish that by marrying one of them. I told your mother that I would give her the antidote only if she married me. She loved the people too much to let them die, so she agreed to it. At that point, I knew I had won. I got exactly what I wanted."

"Your mother agreed to marry me. That made me King of Arendelle. My dreams had come true. I had the power to boss people around and do whatever I wanted. Nobody could say _no_ to me, or tell me what to do. Jon, I'm sure your mother has taught you that there's more to being King than getting your way." The boy nodded in agreement.

Hans became shifting around uneasily, and very conspicuously avoided all eye contact with Elsa. "But I didn't realize that. I was so obsessed with having power. There is nothing more dangerous than an evil, selfish man having a lot of power. During this time, I did a lot of terrible things. I hurt your mother really badly. I punched and slapped her, left hundreds of bruises all over her body, touched her in very inappropriate ways..."

Jon had not failed to notice that Elsa had tensed up and was fighting back tears. "What did you do?" he queried.

Elsa cut in before Hans could say a word. "Jon, why don't we let Uncle Hans finish the story first? Then you can ask your questions." She clenched her jaw and prayed that by the time Hans was through, Jon would forget all about that aspect of the tale.

Jon shook his head firmly. "I want to know," he insisted. Then he shifted his attention back to his mother. "And don't say that I'm too young, or that you'll tell me when I'm older!"

Hans ground his teeth together and silently cursed his predicament. He too was hoping to avoid this discussion. "Jon, I'm not sure that is for me to tell. The point is—"

"Tell me!" Jon interrupted. Elsa turned to Hans and gave him a barely perceptible nod.

Hans took a deep breath. "Our private parts are not just used for peeing. When two people want to make a baby, the man sticks his penis in the woman's vagina, and squirts a special liquid inside her."

"Gross!" Jon shrieked.

"When a man forces a woman to do this, it's called rape. It feels good for the man, but is extremely painful for the woman. That is what I did to your mother."

"It still hurts to think about it." Elsa spoke in barely a whisper, with tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She peeked at Hans out the corner of one eye. "Sometimes I still have nightmares. I was absolutely terrified of men for a long time. It took a while before I could even feel safe around Daddy and Uncle Kristoff." At the mere mention, she hugged her knees to her chest and wept bitterly.

Jon was getting incredibly uncomfortable and contrite. He had never seen his mother cry, and was beginning to regret his persistent questioning. He had forced her to relive a memory that had clearly left her deeply scarred.

Hans came to the rescue. With the palm of his hand, he rubbed soothing circles into her back. When she began to calm down, he took both her hands gently into his own. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, with tears forming in his own eyes.

"Hans," she mumbled softly. "I forgave you many years ago. You need to forgive yourself too. Don't forget, you didn't actually do it. You almost did, but you didn't. You're a good man, and I know you would never hurt me." Now it was Elsa's turn to comfort Hans, as his heart and soul were ripped apart by bitter recollections of the wicked man he had once been.

* * *

The rehashing of their past had had reopened raw, painful old wounds that both Hans and Elsa wished to forget. Several awkward, uncomfortable minutes passed before the emotions abated to the point where rational discourse could continue. Hans reached out a sympathetic hand to wipe away Elsa's tears, and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "So, where were we? Oh yes. I was so excited about being in a position of power. Like I said before, I promised I would hand over the antidote if your mother agreed to marry me. She kept her end of the deal. But the problem was, I didn't even have the antidote. I had been lying since Day One."

"So how did the people get saved?" Jon asked.

Hans gritted his teeth. "Jon, your mother is a very clever woman. She is probably one of the most knowledgeable and scholarly people I have ever known. Read every book in the library seven times. She figured out that I didn't have the antidote. But by doing some research in the library, and by observing the symptoms in the poison victims, she was able to find the recipe for the antidote. That way, the people could be saved without her having to marry me. All this time, I wasn't aware of this. I had no idea that she had figured me out."

Now it was Elsa's turn to speak. "But things wouldn't be so simple. When I went to Grand Pabbie asking him to help us make the antidote, he told me that there was one ingredient the book forgot to mention. Do you know what the missing ingredient was?" Jon shook his head and leaned in closer.

Elsa spoke in barely a whisper. "The heart of an ice-bearer." The tears began to fall. "Grand Pabbie said he would have to take my heart in order to make the antidote. There was no other way."

Hans patted her on the back. "Not quite. You're alive, aren't you? So there _was_ another way. We'll get to that later."

"I knew what I had to do," Elsa mumbled, her head hanging low and her eyes fixed on the ground. "It had to be done. I couldn't let the people die. But I still held on to a glimmer of hope that Uncle Hans did have the antidote with him—even though deep down inside I knew he didn't. So I waited a few more days."

Hans picked up where she left off. "At this time, there was also a man in Arendelle named Captain Yorick. He did a lot of bad things, and your mother shamed him. He was angry and embarrassed, and wanted revenge. So one night, he broke into your mother's bedchambers and tried to kill her. But I killed Captain Yorick and saved her life."

"What did Captain Yorick do?" Jon asked.

Elsa waved her hand dismissively. "It's not important." She motioned for Hans to continue.

"Your mother actually felt sorry for Captain Yorick when she saw his dead body on the ground. It completely blew my mind away. How could she have sympathy for such an evil man? This is when I had a change of heart."

Hans took a deep breath and released it slowly. "All this time, I was so jealous of what your mother had: A loving family, a crown, and a kingdom full of people who absolutely adored her. It wasn't fair. I wanted what she had. But when I saw the way your mother interacted with others, I started to understand. The people loved her because she loved them first. Because she treated them with so much kindness and compassion. Because she never abused her power, and only used her position to do good. I was so touched by what I saw. I realized that I wanted a crown for all the wrong reasons, and I started feeling ashamed of the bad things I did."

"So did you hand over the antidote?" Jon asked.

Hans gave an empty, hollow laugh. "I didn't even have the antidote, remember? Now, this is where the story gets really ugly."

* * *

"For the first time in forever, I was truly ashamed of my behavior. I felt so bad about the evil things I did, and I wished so desperately that I could somehow make things right. But the fact remained that I didn't have the antidote. Because of me, seven hundred innocent people—most of them children—would die a slow and painful death. I hated myself so much, I tried to end my life that night. But your mother stopped me. She told me that she found a recipe for the antidote, and asked me to come with her to get it. At this point, I had no idea that she would have to die for the antidote. I was so relieved that I had a chance to make things right. On that night, she said something that left such a deep impression on me. It stuck with me forever."

"I did?" Elsa asked.

Hans nodded. "You told me, _Hans, you've spent your whole life trying to be a king. Now act like one! _It was then that I realized I truly had no idea how a king—or a queen—was supposed to act. Until you showed me."

Elsa blushed shyly. "Oh Hans, it's nothing. It's really not that big a deal."

"Nonsense," Hans punched her playfully in the shoulder. "Late that night, your mother and I left the castle to go visit Grand Pabbie. She seemed really sad and scared, and I had no idea why."

"Then I learned the truth. I was absolutely horrified when I found out your mother would have to die to make the antidote. I would be responsible for her death. Because of me, she would have her heart ripped out of her chest. I was on my knees, crying hysterically, begging the trolls to take my heart instead. But that was impossible, since I am not an ice-bearer. But more importantly, my heart was too rotten and devoid of love. So it had to be her heart."

"But Mama lived, didn't she? So what happened next?"

Hans smiled through his tears and patted Jon on the back. "What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. As Grand Pabbie was preparing to cut Mama open, he suddenly stopped. He said, _Come with me, Elsa. Your act of true love has saved_ _you_. Then he explained that she had so much love in her heart, more than what was humanly possible. Taking her heart would not be necessary. It would be enough to draw some blood."

Jon was on the edge of his seat. "So the antidote was made with your blood? And the people drank it?" Elsa nodded.

Jon grimaced and made a face. "That's kinda gross."

Hans sighed. "They were in so much pain, they would've done anything to be cured. People were scratching out their eyes, ripping out their hair, biting off their tongues. But I chose a poison that makes it impossible for anyone to die, until they have suffered for ten days."

"So when was the second time you saved Mama's life?"

"We're almost there. In order to make enough antidote for seven hundred people, Grand Pabbie had to take two liters of Mama's blood. It was absolutely horrible, the way he cut open her wrists and split the bone in half. He warned us that the injury would leave her without her powers for three days, and she might bleed to death."

"Is that why you have wrist problems?" Jon asked. Elsa nodded mutely.

Hans cleared his throat. "On our way back to Arendelle, we were attacked by wolves. Mama was thrown off her horse and fell into a ravine. I tried to climb in after her, but she insisted I go back and deliver the antidote. I refused to leave her behind. That's when she conjured up a horse made of snow, and it carried me back."

"That was my last bit of magic," Elsa chipped in. "I was powerless for the next three days."

Hans patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. "As I was riding back to Arendelle, I felt so good about myself. I thought I'd finally have the chance to make things right. I would have the antidote delivered, and the people would be saved. Then I'd lead a search party to rescue your mother from the wilderness. It sounded simple enough. But that's not what happened. As soon as I crossed the border, the guards had me arrested, and they threw away the antidote. I was so frustrated and angry. We—your mother, actually—went through all that pain and sacrifice to have the antidote made, and just like that, it was gone."

"Why were you arrested?" Jon asked.

Hans sighed. "They found her room in a complete wreck after the attempted murder by Captain Yorick. They thought I did that. They thought I killed her. No matter what I said, they wouldn't listen. I knew I would be put to death, but that didn't bother me. Death was the least I deserved. What really destroyed me on the inside was knowing that the antidote was gone forever. There was no way for those seven hundred people to be saved. And no one would send out a search party for your mother, since they thought she was already dead."

The next part of the story was Elsa's to tell. "Three days later, I was well enough to walk again. On my way home, I saw the empty bottle of antidote spilled all over the ground. I knew that something had gone wrong. So I went back to Grand Pabbie, and had him make a second bottle of antidote."

"Did it take more blood?" Jon asked.

Elsa nodded grimly. "Even more than the first time. I thought I'd die from the pain. But if the people could be saved, and Arendelle could be at peace again, it was all worth it. I rode back on my snow horse, just in time to deliver the antidote and stop Hans' execution."

Hans gave her a playful smirk. "I still remember that moment. You looked awfully sexy with all that blood on you. Hey, I just thought of something. If you were on your period at that time, I wonder if we could've used that for the—"

"Hans!" Elsa slapped him in the head. "You filthy pig!"

"Some things never change," Hans laughed flippantly. Then he became serious again. "Your mother came back just I was about to be executed. The antidote was successfully administered, and the people were all saved." Hans wiped away a tear and blinked hard. His voice was thick with emotion. "It warmed my heart to see the people getting well right before my very eyes. To see the wounds closing up. To see the consequences of my evil deeds being washed away. To see children running around, laughing and playing again. It was a miracle. A miracle of true love."

The tears began to fall. "But the doctors said that your mother would not survive. She had lost so much blood, and broke so many bones from being thrown off the cliff. The funeral preparations were already underway. It was heartbreaking."

Elsa reached out a hand to gently wipe away his tears. "And this was also the second time you'd save my life."

Hans nodded. "I knew I had to do something. It was my fault she was dying. I went back to visit the trolls, begging them to make us a healing potion. And they did. But it would cost me something."

"Remorse may not be as strong as love, but it as a powerful magic of its own." The former villain smiled and gestured at his maimed hand. At his missing index finger. "This was the key ingredient to the healing potion. I had to prove my repentance and be willing to suffer for my crimes. I had to sacrifice something. But after what I put your mother through, it was a small price to pay. I thought I hadn't been sufficiently punished yet."

"How were you punished?" Jon asked.

"There was one extra serving of poison, and some leftover antidote. I chose to take it. It would only be fair after everything I did to those poor innocent people."

Elsa winced at the memory. "It was awful. I could hear you screaming in pain from miles away. But you made me promise not to give you any antidote until the ten days were over."

Hans smiled. "I'm glad you kept that promise. Justice had to be served. But more importantly, I felt that a heavy burden had been lifted from my conscience. I felt free. Free from my pride, free from my bitterness, free from my hatred, and free from my very mistaken beliefs about kingship. Love is truly the strongest magic of all. Love can save lives, restore hope, move mountains, and redeem a man as vile and disgusting as Hans Sebastian Westergard. I was a changed man, and I felt it was my duty to share what I had experienced. This led me back home, to see my father and brothers. For too many years, they'd been lost in darkness. If they could see what I had seen, I just knew they would change too."

"Did they listen?" Jon inquired.

"My father did, but my brothers didn't. My brothers continued to be evil and selfish, the same way I used to be. That is why my father ultimately named me as the next King of the Southern Isles, even though I was his youngest son. He saw in me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. A willingness to change. So he trusted that I could rule a kingdom justly and well." Hans winked at Elsa. "Because I learned from the best."

Elsa blushed. "Hans, stop!"

Hans pinched her cheek teasingly. "You know it's true. But Jon, this is the point I'm trying to make. This is the reason we want you to hear this story. Your mother was willing to lay down her life to save seven hundred people whose names and faces she hardly knew. She left her throne, laid down her crown—and all the privileges and perks that come with it—and sacrificed herself for a bunch of ordinary people. It did not matter at all that she was royalty, and they were not. That is how she earned her statue. That is how she earned the love and admiration of the people."

"A crown is an instrument for making a positive difference in the world. As the ruling monarch of a nation, you have tremendous power. But that power is meant to be used with love. The people are entrusting their lives to you, and you owe it to yourself, to them, and to God, to rule with wisdom and compassion. Every life is precious, and every human being deserves to be treated with kindness and respect, no matter what their social status is. Until I had this _adventure_ with your mother, I didn't realize that. But now I do. That is why I am no longer the evil man I was ten years ago."

"I believe we've covered everything. Jon, I hope you learned something today."


	15. A Very Frosty Christmas

**Whew! Now Jon knows the truth about his dear Uncle Hans.**** And now we know a little about WHY Hans' father and brothers were so awful in ****Playing Dirty****. **

**Things will start looking up a bit in this chapter. But there is a major plot twist coming up ****very soon****!**

**Chapter 15:**

All was silent for nearly ten minutes as Jon sat in intense contemplation, trying to digest the massive flood of information that had inundated his mind. The nine year-old felt disillusioned and shocked to his core, to know that his dear Uncle Hans had once been such a wicked, depraved man. The dreadful anagnorisis had thrown his worldview into disarray, torn asunder all his preexisting beliefs, and demolished his sanctuary of naivete into a pile of rubble. How could Uncle Hans, whom he loved and admired so deeply, have such a wretched past? But the tears that were shed and the angst that permeated the room convinced him beyond any doubt that the story had been told in complete, unembellished detail.

Even more astonishing was the revelation of what his mother had been through. Jon continued to shake his head in numb disbelief. She had given so much, made so many sacrifices, and single-handedly turned a murderous sociopath into someone so kind and caring. Jon had always known his mother was an incredible person, but never in his wildest dreams could he have fathomed the immense mental and physical agony she had suffered out of love.

Tears welled in the boy's eyes. After all the turmoil his mother had suffered, the last thing she needed was an obstreperous, ill-mannered son. After all she had sacrificed in the name of love and duty, the last thing she deserved was an heir who felt entitled to unmerited respect. Elsa had lived through more horrors than most people would endure in a thousand lifetimes, but was completely devoid of bitterness. She was a wonderful mother, and never treated him or Robert with anything less than complete and unconditional love. No matter how busy she was with her duties, she never failed to set aside time for them every day.

A wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Jon suddenly broke down into tears. Elsa quickly pulled him into a hug.

Jon finally found his voice after several minutes of unintelligible coughing and sputtering. "I'm sorry, Mama. I never knew."

Elsa planted a kiss on his cheek. "Sweetie, you have nothing to be sorry about. It's all in the past. Uncle Hans and I are at peace with it now. It taught us things, and made us both better people."

Jon shook his head. "No, I'm sorry about me. The way I've been behaving. Oh Mama, I've been such a horrible son. You deserve so much better…"

"Don't say that, snowflake. You are a wonderful son. You are kind, caring, and smart, and one day you will make a great king." She gently pushed Jon back and brushed away his tears with the back of her hand. "People make bad choices when they're angry or hurt, or feel that they've been wronged. But just like Uncle Hans, it's important that we don't allow these negative experiences to define us. It's okay to be upset, as long as we don't become bitter. Remember what I taught you? Love will thaw. And love will heal."

Jon buried his face into Elsa's shoulder, "But I've been so awful… I've been treating everyone so badly…"

Elsa had to blink back her own tears at that statement. "Jon, it is never too late to turn around. You can never be so far lost, that you are beyond the reach of love. As long as we own up to our mistakes and make a conscious effort to change, there is always hope. But we must be able to forgive ourselves first."

Hans decided to intervene. "As you now know, I have done things that would make Satan vomit. Jon, I don't know what you've done, but I guarantee that it does not compare to the things I did in the past. If someone like me could wipe the slate clean and have a fresh start, then anyone can."

These words struck a chord. Jon gave a pensive sigh. "I guess you're right. I'll try."

Elsa reached out to smooth his hair. "I know you can do it, snowflake."

Hans let out a jocular laugh and resumed his lighthearted, flippant demeanor. "All right, that's enough depressing talk for one day. How about we go down to the fairgrounds, and challenge Auntie Anna to some pig-wrestling? Loser buys ice cream."

Jon smiled mischievously. "Let's do it!" With a whoop of laughter, he leapt up from where he was sitting, and dragged Hans out the door and down the hall.

Hans swung back and poked his head into the door frame. "You coming, Frosty?"

Elsa gave a polite little smile. "In a minute. But I won't be pig-wrestling."

Hans cracked a grin. "Who knew that the Snow Queen was such a giant pussy? Anyways, when I'm wrestling with those pigs, I'll just imagine that it's you I'm on top of, trying to pin down on the—

"Hans, that's disgusting!" Elsa turned beet-red with embarrassment.

"How about the Bean Bag Toss? I'm pretty good at putting things in your hole—"

"Knock it off!" The ambient temperature plummeted.

_Come on, Frosty, you're smarter than that. Don't you realize that as long as you keep giving me a reaction, I'll never stop?_ Hans reached out a hand and squeezed her thigh. "What's the matter, Frosty? Not your time of the month? You know, I've got a special device called Hans' Magic Wand that you can use to plug up that leaky faucet. It's so effective, you won't have periods for the next nine months. Why don't you come to my room so I can show you?"

"Hans, enough!" A blast of snow knocked him off his feet, and sent Hans crashing bottom-first into the floor. Although Jon had no idea what was going on and was completely ignorant to the innuendoes of Hans' comments, he laughed and giggled uncontrollably at their incredibly juvenile behavior.

Hans rubbed his sore bottom and clambered back to his feet, smirking ear to ear. "All right, all right! Geez, Frosty! You need to calm your dramatic ass down!"

* * *

Three months had passed since Hans' visit. Autumn gave way to winter, and air was filled with the sweet fragrance of fresh, natural snow. The town was heavily adorned with Christmas-themed decorations, including several life-sized Nativity scenes crafted out of ice. People could be heard whistling yuletide melodies as they went about their daily business. Festivity and merriment permeated the simplest social interactions.

The royal family was no exception to the very pervasive atmosphere of holiday goodwill. Jon still had regular episodes of angry outbursts, but substantial gains had been made. Before he had learned of Elsa and Hans' shared history, he would lash out almost every single day. In the wake of the revelation, the frequency of such conflagrations had diminished to several times per month.

Whenever Jon lost control and showed aggressive or abusive behavior, it continued to upset Elsa, and she would deal with him accordingly. But she was greatly encouraged and reassured by the long-term trend. Jon was certainly moving in the right direction.

On Christmas morning, Jon awoke to a persistent knocking on his door and the excited pattering of footsteps. "What do you want?" he growled in annoyance.

"Let's go open our presents!" Robbie yelled back. "Come on, come on!" The younger boy jiggled the doorknob and began hopping up and down excitedly.

Jon gave an exasperated sigh through clenched teeth and started to send Robbie away. But as he glanced out the window and was greeted by the joyous sight of a winter wonderland and a most picturesque Christmas celebration, his irritation dissolved away. There was nothing more beautiful and innocent than lights shimmering against freshly fallen snow. Jon quickly got dressed and pushed the door open.

Robert was positively beaming with excitement as Jon stepped out into the hall. "Merry Christmas, Jon! Let's go see what we got!"

The five-year-old's effervescence was contagious. As hesitant as he was to return the gesture, as firmly convinced he was that things could never go back to the way they used to be, Jon couldn't help cracking a smile. It was a demure, emotionless smile. But it was a smile nonetheless.

"Merry Christmas, Robbie." Without another word, Jon allowed himself to be dragged downstairs.

The rest of the family was already gathered around a fifty-foot tree made out of solid ice. Elsa was crouched behind a mound of boxes, with her head buried in an enormous jar of chocolate truffles. As her sons burst into the room, she quickly straightened up and desperately tried to wipe her face clean and tuck her chocolate-covered hands out of sight. But it was too late. Evidence of her childish transgression stood in plain view for all to see.

The Snow Queen blushed a deep crimson and grinned sheepishly. "Good morning, boys."

Robert threw himself into her arms. "Merry Christmas, Mommy!"

Then he disentangled himself and dove into a massive pile of presents. "Look! Look! Look! I got that new sled I wanted! Thank you, Uncle Kristoff!" The little boy danced about in excitement, his eyes glowing with wonder and affection at the sleek wooden sled, complete with fresh lacquer and designed to aesthetic and aerodynamic perfection. "Jon, Kristen! Let's go try it out!"

_Why didn't I get something like that?_ Jon instinctively began seething with jealousy and rage at the comparatively mundane items in his pile of gifts. _It's not fair!_ His most extravagant gift couldn't have cost half as much as Robbie's new sled. This blatant, unabashed show of preferential treatment had Jon clenching his fists and involuntarily sending a trickle of frost up the walls. The nine year-old turned to his mother and began to furiously open his mouth, preparing to decry the injustice.

But his indignation faltered as a closer glance revealed that the sled was two-seated. It was a gift meant to be shared, and Robbie had not hesitated to extend the invitation. With a shrug and a little half-smile, he followed his brother and cousin out to the snowy slopes.

**More to come! Let's find out if Jon continues in the right direction!**


	16. The Heir and the Spare

**Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing! Yup, Hans is still a pervert even after all these years. Some things never change.**

**Chapter 16:**

_One year later…_

"Jon?" Six year-old Robert began timidly, "Can you help me with my math homework? I don't get it."

Ten year-old Jon gave a cavalier shrug. "Ask Mama to help you."

"But Mama is busy right now," Robert protested. His comment was not without ulterior motives. No matter how busy Elsa was, she would never hesitate to drop whatever she was doing to patiently walk him through all the arcane principles of mathematics, until a clear picture emerged. It was Jon's companionship and attention that he truly craved.

"I've got things to do."

"Please!" Robbie begged, with tears of desperation welling in his eyes. "I have a test tomorrow!"

"All right, then." Jon followed Robbie into the library and seated himself at the table across from his brother. A book full of very rudimentary math problems lay open on the tabletop. Jon glanced at the marked pages and had to choke back an incredulous snort. _Seriously? You think THIS is hard?_

"Thirty-seven plus nineteen." Jon drew a horizontal line underneath the numbers and sketched an addition sign in the lower left hand corner. "First, we add the one's place. How would you do that?"

Robbie counted on his fingers. "Seven plus nine is… sixteen?"

"Yes," Jon nodded. "Now, what do we do with that sixteen?" He handed the pen to his younger brother. Robert hastily scrawled the number sixteen underneath the horizontal line, and proceeded to add the ten's place.

"No!" Jon slapped his forehead in frustration. "That doesn't make any logical sense. Think about it. Thirty-seven is almost forty, and nineteen is almost twenty. Forty plus twenty is sixty. So the answer should be close to sixty! It can't possibly be four hundred sixteen! You're off by an entire order of magnitude!"

"What does that mean?" Robert's bright green eyes were wide with innocent confusion.

"Never mind." Jon waved his hand dismissively. "Anyways, you're supposed to carry the one, so the answer is fifty-six."

"Why?"

The older boy sighed. In addition to inheriting Elsa's icy magic, Jon had also taken after both his parents' intelligence. His math and language skills had always been two to three years ahead of what was typical for a child his age. How Robbie could have trouble understanding something so simple was beyond him. Maybe Elsa froze his brain while she was pregnant with him.

"Because you're supposed to!" Jon asserted in a forceful tone. Not wanting to further upset his brother, Robbie nodded propitiatingly and asked no more questions.

"Now, how about the subtraction problems? Sixty-three minus twenty-seven. What do you think?"

Several tense seconds ticked by, before Robbie finally ventured a guess. "Forty-four?"

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Where did you get forty-four?"

The younger brother gestured with his index finger. "Six minus two is four. And three can't minus seven, so I did seven minus three."

Jon tried unsuccessfully to suppress the irritation from his voice. "You can't do that. It doesn't work that way." Before Robert could articulate his confusion, Jon continued in a fast, furious tone. He was so annoyed, his explanation was haphazard at best. But he hardly noticed or cared. "You borrow a ten from the six! The three becomes a thirteen, and the six becomes a five, because it gave one away! Now you have fifty minus twenty, and thirteen minus seven, so the answer is thirty-six."

Robert was thoroughly bewildered, but dared not ask any questions, as he heard the impatience in Jon's voice and felt the temperature in the library plummeting. He merely nodded in complete silence.

"All right, let's try again." Jon circled another problem in the math book. "Forty-one minus twenty-four."

Robbie's voice was barely a high-pitched whisper. "Twenty-three?"

"No, you idiot!" Jon slammed his fists on the table. "What were you thinking?"

The younger boy's lower lip quivered and his nose reddened, as a single tear slid down the side of his face. "I don't know," he managed in a terrified whimper.

"That's the problem!" Jon shouted. "You don't think at all! You're not even trying!"

"Yes I am!" Robbie howled miserably as more tears streamed down his cheeks. "You don't have to be so mean!"

"I am _not_ mean! You're just too stupid!" Jon yelled angrily, before reaching out to slam the book shut. "I give up! I've leaving!" He leapt to his feet.

Robert threw himself onto the floor and clung to his brother's leg. "Jon, wait!"

"Leave me alone!" Jon kicked and squirmed furiously, trying to free himself.

"No!" Robbie fought to maintain his grip, tears continuing to blur his vision. "Please, I'm sorry I'm so stupid! I promise I'll do it right! Give me one more chance!"

"I told you to let me go!" Jon grabbed the math book and whacked Robert in the head, sending loose sheets of paper scattering through the air. The six year-old emitted a shrill cry of heartbreak and betrayal.

The commotion would not go unnoticed, as eleven year-old Kristen, who had been reading quietly next door, poked her head into the room. "What's going on in here?"

Jon pointed furiously. "Robbie is being a complete idiot, that's what!"

"I didn't mean to," Robbie sniveled. He coughed and wheezed incoherently through his sobs, choking on his own tears and mucus. "Please, Jon, c-can you help me one m-more time? I really am trying… and I… I have a t-test tomorrow."

"Does it look like I care?" Jon spat. "Why should I care if you fail your test? If your tutor yells at you? Go ahead and fail!"

"Jon, stop it!" Kristen snapped indignantly.

"What?" Jon asked, annoyed. "He's a stupid, worthless little crybaby."

The red-haired girl looked her cousin straight in the eye. "Your mother wouldn't talk to anyone like that."

"So what?" Jon snapped. "Why do I have to be like my mother, anyways?"

"Because you are the Crown Prince of Arendelle! Others will look to you for leadership and guidance! You can't keep treat people this way!"

Jon's pale cheeks flushed crimson with anger and mortification, and his heart palpitated wildly. Deep down inside, he knew that she was right. But she had no business shaming her future king in such a manner. Kristen was older and taller than he, but the fact remained that Jon outranked everyone in this kingdom except for his mother.

"You said it yourself. I am the Crown Prince of Arendelle, and your future king! Don't tell me what to do!"

Kristen had inherited her mother's boldness and her father's strong sense of fair play. She would not allow herself to be intimidated into silence and acquiescence. "If this is how you treat people when you're upset, then you'll be a pretty pathetic king one day."

In a fit of rage, Jon threw his hands forward and struck his cousin in the head with a vicious bolt of ice that shook the entire room. The girl froze in midair before crumpling motionlessly to the floor. A faint crackling sound interrupted the deathly silence, before a streak of white began spiraling through her reddish-orange hair.

Robbie's eyes widened with terror. "Mommy!" he screamed hysterically, bolting out the door and down the hall.

Jon fell to his knees, mouth agape and eyes wide with consternation. He grabbed Kristen by the shoulders and shook her vigorously. _What have I done?_

* * *

A furious beat of footsteps thundered down the hall towards the library, before the door flew open to reveal a red-faced Elsa, followed closely by Anna and Kristoff. Robbie clung to his mother's dress, still sniffling.

Kristoff flung himself onto the floor and picked up his daughter's limp, unconscious form. "She's ice cold," he said breathlessly. "We have to get her to Grand Pabbie." Anna nodded vigorously. Without another word, and refusing to look in Jon's direction, they made a mad dash for the stables.

As the passionate beat of hooves slowly died down in the distance, Elsa turned to fix her gaze on her oldest son. "Jon," her voice was dangerously soft. "You'd better have a good explanation for this."

Jon was in shock over what he had done, but his defiance flared at his mother's accusatory tone and Robert's obsequious sniveling. He gave a recalcitrant, mouthy comeback. "What is there to explain? I'm sure Tattletale Robbie already told you everything." But Jon gulped and instantly swallowed his impudence, as Elsa grabbed the front of his shirt. His mother had never laid a hand on him before.

"Jon, what did you think you were doing? You could've killed your cousin!" The ten year-old could only continue to pout indignantly.

"I taught you how to use your powers! You know better than to act like this!"

"I _know_ how to use my powers!" Jon snapped back.

"Not for abuse!" Elsa tried to keep calm, but her voice trembled with rage. "Your abuse of power and your outlandish sense of entitlement have me questioning whether or not I can leave Arendelle in your charge."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Jon, watch your language!"

"Fine!" The single syllable exploded from his lips, hot and angry.

"And don't roll your eyes at me!"

"Oh yeah? You think you can—" Jon furiously started to argue. But he fell silent as Elsa shot him an icy glare.

"I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice." Her voice softened, and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. But there was an undercurrent of steely determination beneath Elsa's fragile façade. "There is a place in this castle for people who cannot behave like civilized human beings. Come with me."

"What is this place?" Jon demanded.

Elsa gave no response. She merely grabbed Jon by the hand and led him out the door.

As they passed through a cold, drafty corridor and descended yet another stony staircase, Jon felt a strange sense of foreboding. Then he gasped as realization dawned upon him. His pride and impudence instantly evaporated like snow on a summer day. "The dungeons! Mama, please! You can't!"

Elsa shook her head in shame and heartbreak. "I'm sorry Jon, but I must show you this place."

Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched her dress and let out a piteous wail. "Please, Mama! Don't leave me down here!" The dim light of torches cast eerie, foreboding shadows across the floors and walls. Jon trembled with terror.

Elsa felt her heart break at these words, but she stood her ground. She could not allow emotions to weaken her resolve, lest she set a precedent of allowing Jon to negotiate and wheedle his way out of punishment.

Elsa took a deep breath and tried to maintain an even tone. "Jon, if this behavior continues, I cannot let you inherit the throne."

"What?" Jon shrieked incredulously. He could hardly believe his ears. "But Mama, I am your firstborn! This is my birthright!"

"You became the Crown Prince of Arendelle by birth. But you must also show the character traits necessary to maintain that position. Your title does not exempt you from being a courteous and civilized person. If you can't understand that, then your brother will be the next King of Arendelle."

"I'm smarter and better than Robbie! I was way ahead of him in my lessons when I was his age!" Jon protested. The cold didn't bother him, but the boy began shivering violently at the dark shadows and cavernous depths of the dungeons.

"Your brother can learn the academics. But I'm starting to doubt whether or not you can ever learn empathy." Tears shone in her bright blue eyes, and her tone softened into a desperate, pleading whimper. Elsa hated having to utter these words, but they had to be said. "Please, Jon… show me that you can be the loving, caring young man I know you are. You will always be my son. But unless you fix your attitude, you will no longer be my heir."

On that note, Elsa slowly turned and stepped out of the cell, closing the door in her wake. "Think about what you've done. I will be back in two hours."

**Prince Brat has been put in time-out… in the dungeons.**


	17. A Game of Chess

**Welcome back everyone! I meant to have Chapter 17 up yesterday, but as we all know, was down. I will respond to reviews as soon as possible. Thank you to everyone who is reading, and keep it up!**

**Chapter 17:**

Jon sat hunched over on the cold stony bench of his cell, brooding over his situation and feeling sorry for himself. He poked idly at the floor with a thin wand of ice he had conjured. The cold, gray walls and the intimidating quiescence of the dungeons stood in stark contrast to the bright colors and homely ambiance he was used to. The austerity of his environment invoked in him a spirit of metacognition. Jon sighed wistfully as he reminisced upon the past two years. Of the angst and turmoil, of the circumstances he encountered and the choices he made, that had led to his current position. _What have I become? The Crown Prince of Arendelle, locked in the dungeons of his own castle?_

A draft of cold air not of his own making had the boy groaning. The words of his mother, spoken over a year ago, came back to haunt him. He could still see the disappointment in Elsa's face, and hear the reproach in her tone. _Jon, why do you do these things? Why?_

"I don't know!" The ten year-old involuntarily shouted aloud, thrusting his foot forward and sending a small fragment of concrete skittering across the floor. But as the frustration died down and a calmer, more rational perspective settled in, Jon began looking inward. Why indeed, did he behave this way? Why couldn't—or perhaps _wouldn't_—he end this perpetual cycle of wreaking misery in the lives of his mother and brother, but even more so himself? Deep down inside, Jon hated the person he had become. He would always cringe at the ramifications and severity of his bad behavior. But he had at best a tenuous understanding of his own motivations, and saw no alternative. He no longer knew of another way to live.

Jon lowered his head. "Why does Robbie have to be so annoying?" he mumbled softly to himself. "He's clumsy, stupid, and never uses his brain. How can anyone have such trouble understanding something so simple? And why did he have to ask _me_ to help him? Mama could've done it too!"

A nasty little voice sounded in his head. _Robbie has always been that way. But it never bothered you in the past. You used to stand up for him when other people said the exact same things you're now saying. Don't you see, Jon? Robbie isn't the one who's changed. You are!_

"That's not true!" Jon argued back silently but furiously. "Robbie has never been this annoying before!"

_Oh yes he has, _the voice smirked back. _Face it. This is all about Daddy's death. _

"Well, he shouldn't have left the campsite!" Jon knew he was losing ground. But confirmation bias would always trump intellectual honesty. The deceitful wiles of the heart would always overcome the impartial judgment of the mind. The ability to lie to oneself was a powerful force indeed.

_Hah! Now you're just grasping at straws. Jon, you weren't completely innocent either, and you know it! Perhaps you're trying to ease your own guilt and avoid blame, by opportunistically pinning it all on Robbie. Who knows? Maybe you're secretly thankful that Robbie acted that way, so you can feel morally superior. You left the campsite too, you self-righteous little shit. _

"Shut up!" Jon snarled viciously. "You know that's not true!"

The voice only became increasingly smug and sardonic. _Oh Jon… If only there was someone out there who believed you. You can lie to Mommy, but you can't lie to me. I am a part of you. I dwell within your very flesh and marrow, and see the depths of your heart. I know you—_

"I said, shut up!" Jon thrust his hands forward vigorously, and unleashed a massive explosion of ice that rocked the entire cell. His heart stopped as the walls began quivering ominously, and some thin, jagged cracks propagated up the length of the concrete blocks. But his powers were far weaker than his mother's, so the edifice would not collapse.

The sinister little voice would not be heard again, but a seed of uneasiness remained deeply entrenched in his heart.

* * *

Elsa paced back and forth frantically on the castle balcony, tugging on her hair in frustration. Evidence of the Snow Queen's agitation was manifest in the intricate web of ice that crawled across the floor. Night had fallen, and there was still no sign of Anna or Kristoff. She wrung her hands and clenched her jaw for the umpteenth time, and continued pacing until her feet blistered. If Jon had inflicted any permanent damage, she could never forgive herself.

Finally, with minutes to go before the clock struck eleven, the faint beat of hooves could be heard approaching the castle. Elsa squinted into the impenetrable darkness, and could faintly discern two familiar figures on horseback, galloping towards the stables. She raced downstairs to meet them.

Anna and Kristoff had barely dismounted, when Elsa flew across the courtyard and pulled them both into a crushing embrace. But just as abruptly, her elation would vanish. A quick glance revealed that someone was missing. "Where is Kristen? What happened to her?" Elsa cried out, hoping and praying desperately that the unthinkable had not happened.

Anna held up a hand to still her rambling and mollify her fears. "Calm down, Elsa. Kristen will be fine. She is still with Grand Pabbie, but she will be coming home in three days."

"Three days?!" Elsa became extremely agitated and distressed once again, as the repressed memories of her childhood resurfaced. Thirteen years of fear and self-loathing. Thirteen years of hiding. Thirteen years of desperately trying to maintain that tenuous bond of sisterhood. Before Jon was born, and again before Robbie was born, she had promised herself that no child living in her castle would ever go through what she and Anna had endured. But had Jon become too dangerous for her to uphold that vow? Would Kristen's memories have to be altered for her own protection? Would life in Arendelle Castle revert back to an endless cycle of secrecy and closed doors?

"Did Grand Pabbie say anything about changing her memories?"

"She won't remember being struck by Jon. But the rest of her memories won't be altered, because she's so much older than Anna was when she was hit." Kristoff patted his wife comfortingly on the back. "She will need more time to recover because she was hit intentionally."

At the mention of her son's name and his latest transgression, Elsa felt her heart clench. Her precious baby, whom she loved so dearly, had wrought pain and heartbreak upon their family. "Oh Anna, Kristoff, I'm so sorry…" Tears fell from her eyes, and her entire body trembled violently with frustration and helplessness. "This is all my fault. There must be something I'm not doing right with Jon…"

"Elsa, look at me." Anna grabbed her sister firmly by the shoulders. "You've done everything you can. You can love him, teach him, and set a good example, but you can't make him listen. Jon made the choice to act this way. Elsa, you've blamed yourself for long enough. This is not your fault."

Elsa wiped her tears. "I guess," she mumbled downheartedly. "But there has to be some way of getting through to him. It's been two years since Fredrik died. Maybe there's something else going on."

Kristoff tensed at these words. "Grand Pabbie did say that there was something strange about Jon's powers," he finally managed after several seconds of mulling in silence, choosing his words carefully.

"What did he say?" Elsa demanded hastily. "Does he know what the problem is?"

"When Grand Pabbie was taking care of Kristen, he said that he could sense something… something _different_ about Jon's powers. Something snapped inside of Jon when Fredrik passed away. Grand Pabbie said that his magic seems to have a spirit of its own. His exact words were something along the lines of _His powers are an outward manifestation of the coldness in his heart. The ice within will only grow stronger, as Jon's malevolence amplifies with time and age. Only an Act of True Love with the one he hates most will break the curse_."

Elsa tried to make sense of this upsetting yet enlightening new information. "So Jon has frozen his own heart?"

"I'm not sure," Kristoff admitted. "Grand Pabbie asked you to bring Jon to see him in three days, for a better diagnosis."

"Thank you!" A wave of relief washed over Elsa like a cool, fresh mountain spring. The elderly troll king could do anything short of awakening the dead. When they were children, Grand Pabbie had saved Anna's life. Then eleven years ago, he helped her save Arendelle. Now he would be key to reviving Jon's cold and calloused heart, and resurrecting the lovable child he had once been. Elsa smiled to herself. With love, persistence, and a bit of magic, her lost son would be back in her arms before the week was over.

* * *

"Come on Jon, pleeeeeease?" Robert begged.

Jon sighed. "Robbie, I really don't feel like playing chess today." The ten year-old had played chess for as long as he could remember, having inherited his parents' interest and aptitude. But what had once been a beloved pastime was now a painful reminder of the happy, innocent days that would never return. That checkered marble surface had become little more than a graveyard of memories. Jon could hardly even look at a chess board without being reminded of his loss. "Robbie, can't we do something else?"

"Please, just one game?"

"Oh all right," Jon relented.

"Yay!" Robbie cheered as he reached for an extremely posh-looking leatherbound box with fumbling fingers. Jon's stomach lurched as the box opened to reveal its contents.

It was Fredrik's gift to Elsa on the night he had proposed to her. Sparkling like sapphires was an array of cobalt-blue figurines handcrafted using the finest Venetian glass. Each piece was made in the image of a member of Arendelle's royal family.

"Robbie, no! We are not playing with these pieces!" Jon declared.

"But I like them!" The younger boy stuck out his lower lip and pouted, as he finished setting the board.

Jon crossed his arms. "Put it back, or I'm not playing."

Robert attempted a compromise. "Can we put this one on the side, and play with a different one? I just want to look at the pieces."

"Fine," Jon sighed. The boys scooted over to the other end of the coffee table, and set another board.

"Robbie, you've got your pieces backwards. The Knights are next to the Rooks, and the Bishops are closer to the middle." Jon gestured vaguely with his hand.

The six year-old shook his head. "No, this is right!" he insisted.

"Look." Jon pointed to the image of a chessboard on the front cover of the box. Robbie nodded in surprise, and quickly corrected his mistake. Soon the game was in full swing.

"Wait, I don't want to move there." Robbie suddenly reached out to withdraw an errant move.

The older boy shook his head. "Too late. You already played."

"I didn't mean do! I changed my mind!"

"You took your hand off of the piece, so you can't take it back!"

"Yes I can!" Robbie insisted.

"Fine," Jon growled through clenched teeth. _I'm gonna win this game anyways._

Several plays later, the younger boy began moving his King and Rook into a castling maneuver. "You can't castle!" Jon protested. "That square is being attacked by one of my guys." Indeed, one of the Black Knights was attacking the F-1 square.

"It doesn't matter," Robert responded. He pointed to the G-1 square now occupied by the White King. "See? As long as you're not castling into a check."

"But you can't castle _through_ a check either."

"Yes you can!"

"You can't castle if your King moves over the line of an enemy piece." Jon tried to maintain an even tone, but his patience was wearing thin. To prevent any further delay of game, he pulled a book of chess rules off the shelf, and flipped to the correct page. "There, you see?"

The next few minutes proceeded without incident, until the boys were once again at odds over the rules of the game.

"I win!' Robbie announced happily, as he moved the White Queen to capture the Black King.

"No, you didn't," Jon contradicted. "You can't kill a King."

"Yes you can!" Robert argued back.

"That is an illegal move."

"No, you're just mad that I won!"

"That is bullshit!"

"I'm telling Mommy that you said a bad word!"

"Then I'm telling Mommy that you're cheating!" The two boys leapt up from their seats and pushed their ways to the door. But their efforts would be rendered superfluous, as Elsa stepped gracefully into the library, eyeing her sons curiously. Their loud arguing had not gone unheard.

"Boys, what's going on in here?"

Jon pointed furiously. "Robbie is cheating!"

"No I'm not!" Robert shouted back. "Jon is being mean!"

Elsa lifted a hand to silence the commotion. "One at a time, please."

"We were playing chess," Jon explained. "Robbie says that he won because he killed my King. I told him he can't do that, but he won't listen."

"Yes you can!" Robert argued back. "You win when you kill the other person's King."

"Robbie," Elsa spoke patiently, "Jon is right. You can't kill the enemy King. You can only win by putting it in _checkmate_, like this." She grabbed a few extra pieces and placed them in a checkmate configuration.

"Why are you on Jon's side?" Robbie stuck out his lower lip and pouted. Tears of betrayal and humiliation shone in his eyes.

Elsa patted him comfortingly on the back. "I'm not on anyone's side. Those are simply the rules of chess."

"I told you!" Jon retorted smugly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

"No fair!" Robbie shouted indignantly.

"It looks like there've been a few misunderstandings about the rules. Why don't you two start a new game?" Elsa suggested, hoping that this would be an acceptable compromise and would maintain a degree of civility. Then her expression hardened. "I expect good sportsmanship from both of you. No more yelling or insults or name-calling."

As the boys began resetting their game, Elsa became lost in her own thoughts. It was heartwarming to see her children inheriting her love of chess—a game unrivaled in its strategic depths and intellectual thrill. The Snow Queen had been an avid player of chess since her father introduced her to the game at age six. Her council members and some local chess pundits regularly challenged her to play, and she had never lost a single match. Adgar had been the only person to ever win against her, and she had been undefeated since the age of fifteen.

But the game of chess also carried a deeper, more melancholic connotation in her life. Elsa's bright blue eyes filled with tears as she glanced at the custom-designed chess set that Fredrik had used to request her hand in marriage. There it stood, strong and silent, unperturbed by a decade of tumult and strife. Its majestic workmanship displayed for all to see. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day of long ago, when she was first graced with this aesthetic masterpiece.

* * *

_11 years ago…_

"_Come with me, Elsa. I have a special surprise for you." Fredrik gently prodded a blindfolded Elsa in the back, leading her down the hallway and into the castle library. When they arrived at their destination, he removed the cloth._

_On the coffee table was a flat rectangular leatherbound box large enough to fit several books. Fredrik gestured for her to open it. _

_Elsa gingerly pulled back the flaps and lifted the lid. Her jaw dropped in complete and utter amazement at the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. _

_Lying in the box was a chessboard carved out of the purest marble. The pieces were handcrafted with the finest Venetian glass. One army was comprised of sky-blue figurines, while the other was of a darker cobalt hue. The pieces were elegantly crafted to resemble ice sculptures. _

_With trembling fingers, Elsa lifted one of the pieces out of the box and took a closer look, eagerly absorbing every detail of its flawless, intricate design. She nearly dropped it in shock. The figurines had been custom-designed to represent members of the royal family! Her eyes filled with poignant tears at the sheer beauty they beheld. _

"_Fredrik," she managed to choke. "It's beautiful."_

_He gave her a rather nonchalant smile. "Want to set the board?"_

_Elsa began placing the dark blue pieces on their corresponding squares. Her fingers moved with an awestruck, reverent slowness, setting each piece down as carefully as possible, as if they would shatter under the slightest impact. The eight Pawns were all represented by Olaf. The Bishops were figurines of Grand Pabbie, the Knights as Sven, and the Rooks as a miniature replica of Arendelle Castle. _

_Finally, the King and Queen were perfect effigies of Kristoff and Anna. Every last miniscule feature of their faces and statures were captured in complete, undiluted detail. _

_Elsa paused for several minutes to gawk at the artistic masterpiece she had just unveiled. A small cough from Fredrik broke her catatonic state and reminded her that she was only halfway there. Her fingers shook as she began setting the light blue army onto their squares. Aside from the difference in color, the pieces were all the same. Except the Rook was now represented by a diminutive Ice Palace, and the Queen was now herself instead of Anna. _

_But the collection of light blue pieces seemed incomplete. An empty square sat forlornly in the fifth rank. Elsa peered into the box, running her fingers along its velvety interior, but it was completely empty. She knelt down and began to search under the tables and couches, but found nothing. _

"_Is something wrong, my love?" Fredrik's concerned voice caught her attention. _

_Elsa nodded. "The White King seems to be missing." _

_Fredrik gave a cryptic smile and shrug. "Not for long." Before Elsa could register her confusion at those words, he dropped to one knee and took both her hands into his own. _

"_Elsa, before I met you, I was a grouchy git who wanted nothing more than to live a solitary life at sea. From the moment I lost that game of chess on this very same table, I knew there was something special about you. But I was too dense and arrogant to see it. I was blind, but now I see you for what you truly are. A beautiful face, a brilliant mind, and a heart full of love. Because of you, I was inspired to change. It was you who made me amend my ways, abolish my prejudices, and believe in human goodness once again. You have tamed this wild stallion and given this weary head a place to rest." _

_Fredrik reached into his pocket to retrieve the missing piece. A light blue glass figurine of himself. He set it gently onto the empty square. "My dear Elsa, may I be your King?"_

_Tears sprang to her eyes as she threw herself into his arms. "You may." _

* * *

Elsa felt her heart overflow with great joy and terrible sadness as she reached down to pick up the little glass sculpture made in Fredrik's image. _It even has his eyes,_ she thought warmly. Then she held her own piece in her opposite hand. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two. Together, yet alone. _I miss you so much, Fredrik._ _Help me to be strong for our boys. For Arendelle. For you._ Elsa leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on Fredrik's piece, before closing both eyes and letting a single tear slide down her cheek.

Before long, she was cruelly awoken by a series of angry shouts. "Stop it!" Robbie screamed furiously, slamming his fists on the table.

"Stop what?" Jon growled back. "I didn't do anything wrong! Killing pieces is part of the game."

"You can't keep doing that! It's not fair!"

Elsa quickly composed herself and sized up the situation at hand. Jon had executed a series of brilliant moves and captured several of Robbie's key pieces, and was winning by a comfortable margin. The younger boy was angry and frustrated at his impending loss.

"I'm not playing anymore!" Robbie stood up to leave.

"Robert, don't be a quitter. Finish the game," she ordered.

"Hah!" Jon laughed triumphantly. "Take that!"

"Jon, watch your attitude."

Robbie celebrated his moral victory by sticking out his tongue and spitting, and Jon retaliated by raising a middle finger.

"Boys!" Elsa was almost shouting at this point. "Stop it! If I see any more bad sportsmanship, you will be sent to your rooms."

The next few minutes proceeded without incident under Elsa's watch, until Jon claimed victory with a clever checkmate. "Cheater!" Robbie screamed.

"Robert, go to your room." Elsa's tone was soft but firm.

"Loser!" Jon taunted, grinning smugly at his enraged little brother.

"Jon, you too."

"You're mean! I wish you weren't my brother!" Robbie screamed hysterically.

"It's not my fault you're almost as dumb as Auntie Anna!" Jon shot back.

Elsa had heard enough. She grabbed both boys firmly by their upper arms, and began marching them out the door. In a swift, jerky motion, Jon wrenched free from her grip. He seized a handful of wooden chess pieces and hurled them in Robbie's direction.

"Jon, stop that!" Elsa made a furious move to restrain him. Jon merely looked back her with a cold, indifferent gaze, and continued throwing chess pieces. Robbie began to retaliate, but an icy glare from his mother cowed him into acquiescence.

Jon lashed his hand across the surface of the coffee table, and sent the heavy oaken chessboard hurtling through the air. As the heavy projectile spiraled and precessed across the room, a sharp corner slashed across Elsa's face. The skin peeled back and the flesh split wide open, cutting straight to the bone. The gash spanned from nose to earlobe, spattering her clothes with a torrent of blood.

Clenching her teeth to suppress a scream of pain, Elsa grabbed Jon by the wrists and tried to restrain him. The ten year-old kicked and thrashed ferociously. His left foot slid across the tabletop and knocked over Elsa's custom-made glass chess set. The delicate ornaments toppled over with a soft but devastating clink.

Elsa let out a barely-audible gasp and flung herself onto the floor. A helpless, pleading look was etched into her features as she scrambled about desperately, trying to salvage her beloved treasure. But it was too late. A loud crunching sound was heard as Jon planted his foot onto the carpet and began walking away unknowingly.

"No…" Elsa's voice was weak and faint as she glanced down at the pile of glass. She fell to her knees and picked up the shattered pieces. The White King, the diminutive but proud effigy of her darling Fredrik, was broken beyond repair. Tears streamed down her lacerated cheeks, mingling with the blood and staining her dress crimson. Elsa hugged the glass shards close to her chest, and collapsed in a fit of sobs.

Jon seemed to have realized the enormity of his actions, as his eyes flitted back and forth between the broken glass and his mother's crestfallen face. "Mama…" he began.

"Forget it!" Elsa screamed hysterically, choking on her own blood and tears. "Look what you've done!" Fueled by adrenaline and rage, and with pain and heartbreak dulling her wiser judgment, Elsa seized a wooden broom handle leaning against the wall, and delivered a solid whack across Jon's bottom.

The boy reeled back in complete and utter shock. For the first time since Fredrik's death, every vestige of pride and rebellion vanished from his eyes, replaced by confusion and betrayal. His cold, calloused façade melted away to reveal a lost and misguided child. "Mama…" his voice quivered and tears began welling in his eyes. "You promised—"

_Swish!_ The broom handle whipped through the air and tore into his backside once again. Elsa's normally placid eyes and gentle features were wrought with anger as she delivered blow after blow, until her weapon snapped in two.

The cacophonous splintering of wood seemed to bring Elsa back to her senses. Her eyes widened in shock and horror as she saw Jon's hurt expression.

"Jon, I'm sorry…"

Too late. Jon had already vanished from sight.


	18. Runaway

**If you aren't willing to lose all your friends over a board game, then you aren't playing hard enough. **

**Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Our very sweet and angelic Snow Queen has hit her breaking point. Now let's find out what happens next. **

**Please answer the following:**** Do you believe Jon deserved to be hit? **

**Chapter 18:**

Elsa sprinted frantically down the hall, uttering haphazard apologies as she pushed past servants and guards in her path. She paid no heed to the raised eyebrows or astonished murmurs of people whispering about her flyaway hair, disheveled appearance, and the ugly gash that marred her cheek. Finally, she rounded a corner and ran straight into Kai.

"My apologies," Elsa mumbled hastily. She started to walk away, but the older man suddenly grabbed her arm.

"Elsa, what's that on your face?"

The Snow Queen ducked to keep her face hidden. "Tell you later."

Kai grabbed her by both shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye. "Elsa! We must get you to the doctor immediately!"

"Not now!" Elsa's voice crackled with desperation and anguish. "This is urgent!"

"Nonsense!" Kai tightened his grip and began half-dragging, half-carrying Elsa towards the hospital wing of the castle. "What could be more urgent than your health and safety?"

"I've ruined everything! Again!" Elsa blurted, with fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. Then her body went limp and she slumped weakly into Kai's arms. "Maybe I should just cease to exist. I wind up hurting everyone I love."

Kai patted her on the back, feeling his heart break with sympathy. He had lived and worked in the castle since the early years of Adgar's reign, and had cared for both royal sisters since infancy. He had changed their diapers, fed them, bathed them, and rocked them to sleep. At least once a week, he would chase the pint-sized miscreants all over the castle, as they sneaked out of bed to pillage the kitchen's chocolate stash. As years passed, Kai watched with helpless despair as their childhoods came to a tragic end. Listened as they cried themselves to sleep night after night, through thirteen years of loneliness. Rejoiced at the miracle of true love that brought them back together. Became the proudest man in the land as they served Arendelle with selfless love and diligence. Wept as he gave them away at the altar, and watched as they started families of their own.

Elsa may as well have been his own child. Seeing her in pain tore his heart to pieces. Kai had watched as she evolved from a carefree little girl into a terrified adolescent, and finally into the most strong, wise, caring, and prudent individual to ever wear the crown of Arendelle. Now they had come full circle, as fear and darkness once again threatened to tear asunder a family built on love and trust.

Kai squeezed her hand comfortingly. "Is this about Prince Jon?" Elsa nodded mutely.

The older man gestured vaguely at the hideous gash that spanned her cheek. "Did he have anything to do with that?"

When the blonde merely averted her gaze and gave no response, Kai's tone became more urgent and demanding. "Elsa, what happened?"

"Jon and Robert were playing chess earlier today. They got into a fight over the rules of the game. I sent them to their rooms when things got out of control, and they started throwing chess pieces at each other. Then Jon threw the entire board at me, and that's how I got cut."

Kai patted her lovingly on the back. "Elsa, you've done nothing wrong. Jon is the one at fault. Please, you must stop blaming yourself every time something bad happens."

Elsa shook her head violently. "No, just hear me out. When I was trying to restrain Jon, he accidentally kicked over the special chess set that Fredrik gave me when he, you know…" More tears stream down her face, drenching the gauze material.

Kai's mouth widened in horror. He knew that it was Elsa's most cherished possession, and a remnant of the happy family she once had. It was a miracle that she had not set off another eternal winter. "Elsa, I'm so sorry! Did it break?"

"Most of it survived. But Fredrik's piece was broken. That's when I lost my mind. I was so angry and hurt and devastated, as if I was possessed by a demon. I completely lost control." Elsa trembled violently with anguish. "I… I hit Jon with a broom handle." There, she said it. Now the whole world knew what a despicable human being she was.

Kai wordlessly hugged her trembling body for a few minutes. Finally, he spoke again. "Your Majesty—"

"Don't call me that. I don't deserve it," Elsa mumbled.

"Of course you do. If your father could see—"

The Snow Queen gave a hollow, empty laugh. "Well, I guess it's the only thing I've ever done right in my entire life."

"You know that's not true. Listen to me. You are a wonderful person. You made the very human mistake of lashing out after being hurt and provoked."

"But I promised Jon I would never hit him," Elsa whispered regretfully. "I violated his trust. I made him think I love a chess set more than I love my own son. Kai, I have to go see Jon. Apologize, beg for forgiveness, and tell him how much I love him."

"Wise decision, Your Majesty. But don't forget that Jon owes you an apology too." The corpulent man cleared his throat. "But I think both of you need some time to cool down. Perhaps it's best you wait until tomorrow morning."

Elsa shrugged. "I guess you're right. I'll talk to Jon first thing tomorrow morning."

* * *

Late in the night, all was calm and silent. Everyone was exhausted, and the castle was utterly devoid of activity. Until a door creaked open in the North Wing.

Ten year-old Jon stepped furtively out into the hallway, turning left and right. A surreptitious glance over his shoulder confirmed that he was indeed all alone. He crept along, making every move in utter silence and secrecy, until he stopped in front of his brother's room. The boy hesitated and started to open his mouth, but decided against it. He turned on his heels and continued slithering down the hall.

A few minutes later, he stood in front of a towering door painted with an intricate snowflake pattern. Behind this door was the wicked woman responsible for all his pain and suffering. Jon clenched his teeth and trembled with anger, as the welts across his bottom throbbed painfully. _You lied to me. You broke your promise. You don't love me at all,_ he raged silently. Tears of indignation scalded his cheeks. _I hate you!_

This was no time for sentimentality. He had a mission to complete, and he had to follow through. He couldn't allow emotion or vacillation to stop him from doing what had to be done. Jon wrapped the black cloak tightly around his body and began descending the staircase.

As he pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air of the castle courtyard, Jon threw one last glance over his shoulder. "I'm sorry Mama, but I have no choice. You brought this upon yourself."

Somehow, he had to get past the guards. If anyone discovered him now, all would be lost. Jon shot a blast of icy wind into the darkness, shattering a vase in the distance. As the guards left their posts and raced towards the source of the commotion, he smoothly slid out the castle gates.

In the summer months, the sun would rise as early as four in the morning. Already a faint orange glow was peeking over the Eastern horizon. Jon knew he had to move quickly and stealthily. He pulled the hood over his face and crept towards the docks. The air felt crisper, the sky seemed brighter, the stars more plentiful, and the breeze salty and invigorating. Jon began to step forward eagerly, but quickly pulled back. He cursed his rotten luck as he heard the slurred bantering of dockhands and the shuffling of boots.

Jon ducked behind a pile of boxes and watched intently. High overhead, chains for hoisting cargo rattled loudly. Levers and pulleys creaked as they lifted massive wooden crates onto the ships. Men laughed, joked, and cursed as they worked.

"Careful, idiot!" The captain shouted. "That shit's fragile! Bottles of rum headed for the Southern Isles, and it cost a fucking fortune!"

A tall man, whose face was a mess of stubble and whose dirty-blonde hair was pulled back in a scraggly ponytail, snorted with laughter. "Seriously? Hasn't the bastard had enough rum already?"

A second man chuckled. "Ain't it true that King Hans once tried to fuck a donkey after having too much to drink? The whole time he was saying to the donkey, _Damn Frosty, I think I just set off an eternal winter in my pants…_"

The first man sniggered childishly. "Yeah dude. If we're lucky, maybe we'll layover a day or two in the Southern Isles. Then we can try crashing one of his parties!"

"More working, less talking!" the captain shouted furiously. "I want this ship fully loaded and departing for the Southern Isles in one hour! We've got three more stops to make after that!"

_The Southern Isles!_ Jon thought excitedly. _This ship is going to the Southern Isles!_ As the men continued arguing and shouting, Jon saw his chance. He swung his leg over the edge of an empty crate and dropped inside, onto a pile of cardboard boxes and canvas scraps. He built a cavelike mound in one corner and ducked out of sight.

The ten year-old didn't have long to wait before various items began descending into the crate, battering relentlessly against his makeshift shelter. Fortunately, he was protected from the impact by the thick cardboard overhead, and by the icy scaffold he had constructed beneath it. Darkness fell as the men nailed the lid into place, and Jon could only peek through the thin slits between the wooden slats. He lurched left and right as the crate was hoisted into the air and over the ship railing, and finally lowered into the cargo hold.

As the voices and footsteps of the men faded away, Jon knew that it was safe to move. He shifted into a more comfortable position and with a blast of ice, made a fist-sized hole in the wall of the crate. The boy pressed his nose to the hole and ravenously inhaled the fresh ocean air.

A bugle blared loudly, followed by the captain's shout and the wrenching, abrasive sound of the anchor being lifted. The Southern Isles was only two days away by ship. Jon's heart leapt with excitement. He had done it! He was on his way!

As the sun began to rise and the ship glided through the water, Arendelle's coastline vanished beneath the horizon. The wretched memories of the past two years likewise dissipated into the salty breeze. Jon rolled over onto his back and gave a vindictive smirk to a nonexistent audience. "Good bye, _Mother_. Have fun with your precious, darling Robbie. I'm going to go live with Uncle Hans. He doesn't yell at me, boss me around, or lie to me."

**Chapter 19 comes out this weekend!**


	19. Stormy Seas

**Chapter 19:**

Elsa tossed and turned fitfully in her sleep. As tired as she was, the events of the previous day denied her a moment of peaceful slumber. For the fifth time that night, she was jolted awake by a very disturbing dream.

_A blizzard tore through the balmy summer sky. Millions of tons of snow mercilessly battered down upon the unprepared kingdom. Livestock perished by the thousands. Agricultural fields withered in the stinging cold. Children lay lifelessly in the streets, whimpering feebly as pneumonia took its toll. Men trapped on fishing boats in the frozen fjords dropped to their knees and cried to the heavens, pleading for a miracle. _

_Elsa ran through the streets, dissipating the raging blizzard to the best of her abilities, her heart breaking at the terrified screams of people everywhere. But the cold was relentless and she was near the end of her strength. _

_Then she saw it. Standing atop the highest peak of the North Mountain, his hands outstretched and his lips twisted in a demonic grin, was a young boy with light blonde hair. The child smirked wickedly as he fired a powerful blast of ice from one hand, shattering the palace walls. As he turned to face her and the duo locked eyes, Elsa dropped to her knees in shock. "Jon?"_

_The boy stared into her soul with a piercing, ruthless gaze. "Hello, Mother." His voice dripped with smugness and vitriol. _

"_Please Jon," Elsa begged. "Stop this madness and come home."_

_He snorted derisively. "Home? I don't have a home."_

"_Yes you do," Elsa spoke in a pleading whisper. She reached out a tentative hand to stroke his cheek. "You will always have a home. Please, Jon. Mommy loves you." _

_With lightning speed, Jon raised a hand and slapped her viciously across the face. Elsa cried out in pain and fell backwards into the snow. The boy stepped over and glared down at her with cold, soulless eyes. _

"_I have no mother, you evil witch! I am the master of my own fate. I answer to no one!" _

_He shot a vicious bolt of ice straight into her heart and chuckled devilishly as she began to freeze. "Good riddance, witch."_

Elsa screamed as she bolted upright in bed, trembling all over. The sheets and mattress were drenched with cold sweat. It took several minutes of heavy, laborious breathing before she regained her senses. "It was just a dream," she tried to reassure herself. "Nothing to be afraid of." But her eyes continued to flicker uneasily as they darted left and right, scanning every nook and cranny of the room.

Elsa clambered out of bed and walked over to her dressing table, panting heavily as she stood in front of the mirror, gaping at her reflection. Her bright blue eyes were wild with fear, and dark circles took residence beneath her lower eyelids. The hideous gash that spanned her left cheek had been closed with forty stitches, but thin streaks of blood continued to seep from the lacerated flesh. Her skin was even paler than its typical porcelain hue, and had a bluish tint begotten of sleeplessness and blood loss. Both cheeks were hollow and sunken. This was the image of one beleaguered by intense physical and emotional turmoil.

A sharp knocking on the door caught her attention. Who would be disturbing the queen so early in the day? The sun was low, and streaks of pink had barely begun to propagate themselves across the deep indigo sky. Elsa guessed that it was roughly five in the morning. No one would be awake at this hour, aside from a few guards patrolling the castle grounds.

The knocking persisted. "One moment!" Elsa quickly threw on her robe and pulled the door open. Standing in the threshold was the Captain of the Guard. His cheeks were red and his chest heaved with exertion.

"Your Majesty," he took a hasty bow. "When was the last time you saw Prince Jon?"

Confused, Elsa gave the obvious response. "Yesterday afternoon, before dinner. Why?"

The captain gritted his teeth and chose his next words carefully. "Did you notice anything different about him? Like, what was his state of mind? Did he seem upset about anything?"

His question alarmed her. How could he possibly know? "What's going on? Did something happen?"

The tall, muscular man stroked his beard. "Late last night, my men found a broken vase in the gardens, surrounded by fragments of ice. There were also a set of fresh footprints leading out the castle gates. Based on the size and depth, they were created by a boy of roughly ten or twelve. We have reason to believe—"

Before he could finish, Elsa was already out the door and sprinting down the hall. She rounded a corner and skidded awkwardly to a halt in front of her son's bedroom. Her face was sweaty and flushed, and the loose bathrobe was hanging off one shoulder, but she paid no heed. Elsa raised a trembling hand and knocked vigorously. "Jon, are you awake?" She gulped for air and tried to steady her breathing.

No response. Elsa pounded harder on the closed door. "Jon, it's me!" When her call remained unanswered, Elsa pressed her ear against the smooth wooden surface, and strained her hearing. But not a sound was detected.

With heart hammering and hands shaking, Elsa pushed open the door. Her jaw dropped and both eyes widened in disbelief at the cold, empty bed.

"Jon!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tore down the halls like a crazed woman, stumbling into walls and tripping over her own feet. The captain reached out a hand to steady her, but she pushed past him without making eye contact. Elsa flew down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the cooks were beginning to prepare breakfast.

"Gerda!" Elsa grabbed the older woman by the shoulders and looked imploringly into her eyes. "Have you seen Jon? Has he been down here at all?"

Gerda shook her head slowly. It was rare to see Elsa so flustered, and she wasn't sure how to respond.

Elsa sank to her knees, clinging to Gerda's apron straps for support. "Any candies or desserts go missing? Any chocolate fingerprints on the counters or tables? Nothing at all?"

"No, Your Majesty. Nobody has been down in the kitchens since dinner last night." But Elsa was already gone.

Elsa clutched at a stitch in her chest as she sprinted precipitously for the servants' quarters, tears streaming as she silently cursed herself. Normally, she would never disturb them so early in the morning, and was always completely respectful of their space and privacy. They were her friends and second family, not her servants.

Politeness be damned, this was an emergency. If anything happened to Jon, she could never forgive herself. Dozens of horrifying scenarios flashed through her mind. Had he been kidnapped? Was the poor child still alive? Would she ever see him again? Elsa kicked and pounded furiously at the closed door, ignoring the murmur of sleepy grumbles it elicited. Finally, the door creaked open.

"Jon is missing!" she screamed hysterically. "I want everyone up in ten minutes, and searching the entire kingdom until we find him!" One particularly lethargic and unresponsive man received a mouthful of snow. _It had to be done. I'll apologize to him later._

The servants knew not to stall or ask questions. The urgency of the situation was apparent. They all got dressed quickly and sprang into action. A few individuals followed the guards out into the village, while the rest scoured the castle grounds for any sign of their missing prince.

* * *

Jon munched slowly on his food, holding an apple in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. He peered through the cracks between the wooden panels, and caught a glimpse of the sky. It was nearly noon. He conjured up a handful of crushed ice and slurped ravenously. Luckily, his icy magic provided him an endless supply of cool, fresh water.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the boy stopped eating and pressed his ear to the wall of the crate, listening intently.

"Dark clouds over the horizon," he heard one man say in a worried tone. "Looks like we're headed straight for a storm. Perhaps we should dock until it passes."

"Nonsense!" another voice scoffed. "It's just a little wind and rain. We'll proceed along the designated route, and be in the Southern Isles by tomorrow morning." The first man grumbled inaudibly, but seemed to have conceded.

The young prince smiled to himself. One more day and he would be forever free from the pain of the past, and beginning a new life with dear Uncle Hans! The boy slowly sank his teeth into a crunchy red apple, careful not to make too much noise. _Just wait till Uncle Hans finds out what Mama did to me! _He bit into a chocolate square. He had nothing to lose. Even if Hans sent him back home, he would at the very least have made his point clear.

A sudden lurching movement flung Jon forward into the front wall of the crate. The ten year-old quickly threw out both hands to break his fall. But the floor shifted beneath him, and he would continue to be tossed about in an undulating motion for several minutes.

A deafening crack sounded in the distance, reverberating through the wood and steel of the ship, and throwing Jon onto his back. Footsteps thundered overhead, and men shouted frantically. The boy was getting scared. What was happening?

As if to answer his question, a roll of thunder roared across the sky, followed by a massive torrent of rain. Jon's head collided painfully with the left wall of the crate, as a massive wave hammered against the ship's starboard. The constant, chaotic motion was making him nauseous. Desperate for fresh air and fed up with his confines, Jon forced the crate open with a blast of ice and tumbled out into the cargo hold. He had to get out. He no longer cared if he was discovered.

Men shouted loudly and reeled in surprise as the blonde-haired boy sprang out of hiding. Several men bombarded Jon with unintelligible questions or tried to grab him, but they slipped on the wet planks and toppled to the floor.

The wind was furious. It shredded the massive canvas sails into ragged strips, and nearly tore Jon's clothes from his body. Puddles of vomit were intermittently splattered all over the deck, mixed in with ankle-deep seawater. The horrendous stench turned Jon's stomach. As the sea churned furiously, sailors screamed and cursed and grabbed at whatever they could, to prevent from going over the edge. One unfortunate man lost his grip and tumbled head-first into a mast. Like a rag doll, his body went limp and fell over the edge. Soon there was no sound but the howling of the wind and the thundering of water.

Jon sank to the floor and buried his face between both knees. He felt tears of remorse trickle down his cheeks as the seriousness of the situation became frighteningly real. He was going to die. He would never see his family again. In a moment of thoughtless pride and rebellion, he made a rash decision. Now he would now pay the ultimate price. "Good bye, Mama," his lips barely moved. "Good bye, Robbie."

Over the horizon rose a wave so massive, it seemed to scrape the clouds. Jon closed his eyes as the ship rolled over and plunged beneath the surface. Submerged, the salty water stung his eyes. Jon felt his senses dulling and his mind slipping into oblivion, as he swirled about in a massive underwater typhoon. Bodies and equipment and fragments of wood became one with the sea.

But his imminent death seemed to unleash some hidden faculty of his icy magic. Somehow his powers could sense that their young master was in grave peril. The ice would act autonomously to save his life, as they had done nearly fifteen years ago to stop an arrow fired at Elsa's heart. An icy lifeboat slowly took form beneath Jon's unconscious body and rose to the surface, carrying him slowly but steadily out of harm's way.

* * *

"He's alive." A man's voice sounded.

"The poor child." A woman's voice followed up. "He hasn't had a thing to eat in three days."

Jon's eyes were closed and his senses dulled by a blinding headache. A miasma of unfamiliar, indecipherable voices droned on in the distance. The boy continued drifting in and out of consciousness. The last thing he remembered was the deafening roar of the sea, as he prepared to descend into a watery grave. After that was a haze of impenetrable silence and nothingness. He had no idea how much time had passed. He wasn't even sure if he was alive or dead. _Am I in heaven? _

His mind barely registered a strong, gentle hand tilting back his chin and releasing a trickle of water into his mouth. The cold, soothing liquid stung his throat. As he regained his strength, Jon began to realize how hungry he was. Excruciating spasms tore through his empty, distended stomach. His eyes flitted open, then widened in shock at the unfamiliar environment. He was lying in a bed and surrounded by nurses. But this was not the hospital wing of Arendelle Castle.

As Jon poured himself another glass of water, he heard a soft patter of approaching footsteps. "The boy is awake, Your Grace." A man spoke from outside the room.

"Thank you, Gregory." The snooty, pompous voice of the second man was vaguely familiar. "I will see to it that our esteemed guest receives some state-of-the-art hospitality. Only the best for a young prince."

Jon was about to go back to sleep and ease his frazzled mind, when the loud clearing of a throat jolted him awake. Standing before him was a short, mustached man with gray hair and a laughably pretentious uniform.

"Prince Jon," the man bowed, although there was a distinct undertone of mockery in his voice. "Welcome to Weselton."


	20. Lost at Sea

**Let's find out what's in store for our little stowaway! **

**Without further ado, Chapter 20:**

"Weselton?" Jon's eyes widened in shock. "But… how? Why am I here? When did I—"

The Duke cut off his flustered rambling with a syrupy tone. "You washed ashore three days ago. You poor boy, it's a miracle you survived that shipwreck. Are you feeling better?"

Jon nodded. "What happened to the rest of the crew?"

The short, pompous man adjusted his toupee and spoke slowly and reverently. "You were the only survivor."

"Everyone else died?" Jon's voice was soft and timid at this disheartening revelation.

"Those poor men. May God rest their souls and lift them to everlasting peace." He patted Jon comfortingly on the back and assumed a grandfatherly demeanor. Very conspicuously, he lifted his monocle and dabbed at a nonexistent tear. "But even amidst a terrible tragedy, we have something to be thankful for. You survived. You defied the odds and conquered death. Prince Jon, you have the heart of a lion. Truly you are destined for great things." The ten year-old glowed with pride at these words.

But an inkling of premonition nudged at his conscience. He didn't have the words to articulate his uneasiness, but there was something subtle and elusive about the man that made him skeptical. His words seemed too perfect, and his compliments contrived.

"Enough talk. Would you like something to eat, Your Highness?"

"Yes!" Jon shouted enthusiastically. His stomach emitted a thunderous rumble to confirm that statement. "Yes, please," he quickly corrected. With a simple nod of his head, the Duke sent one of the nurses out into the hall.

In a few minutes, she was back with an enormous platter of food. Roasted lamb, creamed spinach, pumpkin soup, and for dessert a thick slice of black forest cake. Enough to feed several grown men.

The Duke must have noticed Jon's ravenous gaze as he sat utterly transfixed. He patted the boy jovially on the back. "A good meal is the least you deserve, after all you've been through these past few days. I hate to boast, but we do have the finest chefs in all the land."

"Thank you, sir." Jon began to scarf down his food with barbaric fervor. The Duke hadn't been exaggerating. This was possibly the most scrumptious meal he'd ever had. Every taste bud sang with pure, adrenaline-fueled ecstasy.

"I'll let you eat in peace now." The diminutive man dipped his head in a slight bow, and headed for the door. "If you would like anything else, please don't hesitate to ask."

As Jon cleared his plate and swished down a glass of the most delicious raspberry cordial he'd ever tasted, he leaned back contentedly against the pillow. Perhaps his cynicism had been unfounded. The Duke had treated him so kindly, in spite of all his pretentious mannerisms. He vaguely remembered Mama and Papa telling him that this man was not to be trusted. But how could someone so kind and generous possibly be evil? Without a second thought, Jon let out a loud belch and snuggled back into the downy comforter.

* * *

The captain led a squadron of guards and hundreds of volunteers through the town. The men could have smashed down doors and overturned furniture looking for the young prince, who had been missing for three days. But Elsa had specifically instructed them not to cause any mayhem or destruction in their search.

The royals led another search party into the mountains. Ever since he was a toddler, Jon had always been enamored with his mother's ice palace, and longed for the day when he too could summon such a magnificent creation. Elsa figured it was not unlikely that Jon might be found there. After all, it was the ultimate embodiment of freedom and empowerment, and she too had once used it as a temporary escape. Besides, the mountains were covered with snow year-round. The natural snow provided a perfect camouflage for someone who did not want to be discovered.

With Kristoff's knowledge of the terrain and Elsa's control over the frigid weather, the group was able to move quickly and efficiently.

"Look," Anna pointed at a small wooden cabin along the riverbank. "If anyone came through these mountains, Oaken would've seen them." She pushed open the door and led the way in.

An enormously tall and obese man with gray streaks in his strawberry-blond hair waved jovially as she crossed the threshold. "Yoo-hoo! Big summer blowout. Everything in Section Five is half-off before—"

Anna cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Have you seen anyone suspicious come by? A blonde-haired boy, about ten years old, I dunno… Prince Jon, maybe?" She instantly blushed and grimaced sheepishly at Elsa. "No, I'm not saying Jon is suspicious, but what I mean is—"

"You!" Oaken suddenly roared, as he rose to his full height and thrust a finger viciously in Kristoff's direction. "I thought I told you not to come back, ya?"

Kristoff brushed aside the larger man. "Look here buddy, we've got a real problem."

"I'm not your buddy!" Oaken bellowed.

"Okay, we got off to a bad start here." Anna stepped in between the two men, trying to push them apart.

"Sorry dear, but you need to step aside while I throw Pretty Boy out of my humble abode." Oaken gently pushed Anna to the side and took a heavy step in Kristoff's direction.

"Get your hands off of her!" Kristoff snapped, as he too moved into a confrontational stance and clenched his fists. "Did you hear what the princess said? She's not going anywhere!"

"Anyone who calls Oaken a crook is not welcome to stay. It's that simple. Yoo-hoo! Now, if you don't mind, Kristopher—"

"It's _Kristoff_!" The younger man spat furiously. "You son of a—"

"Gentlemen, enough!" A blast of cold air tore through the shop. Kristoff and Oaken both stopped dead in their tracks. Elsa stood framed in the doorway. Both men's eyes widened, and they hastily dipped into a bow.

Elsa gave a weary sigh and dissipated her ice. "Whatever's going on between the two of you, you can fight it out later. But I really need your cooperation right now. Prince Jon has been missing for three days, and we think he might be headed for the North Mountain. Oaken, have you seen him at all?"

"No, Your Majesty." Oaken shook his head meekly. "I have seen no sign of our young prince."

Elsa felt her heart clench, as the nagging suspicion of a kidnapper resurfaced. "Has anyone stopped by pulling a covered-up wagon or carrying a burlap sack? Anyone have an unusually large amount of supplies with them? Perhaps someone who seemed to be in a hurry?" Elsa knew that her questions were vague at best, but she had to cover all bases.

Oaken shook his head. "Unfortunately not, Your Majesty. Only our regular customers." His tone became apologetic and his expression downcast. "I'm sorry about the boy. I will let you know if I see anything suspicious at all, ya?"

Elsa forced a smile. "Thank you, sir." She bade him a polite farewell and trudged out the door and into the cold air.

"It's getting late." Kristoff shielded his eyes and peered at the setting sun. "Perhaps we should call everyone together, and head back. We'll continue searching tomorrow at dawn."

The Snow Queen sighed dejectedly. Every minute not spent searching was another minute in which Jon could be slipping further and further beyond her reach. But Kristoff was right; the visibility was getting dangerously low, and it was best that everyone leave the mountains before the skies grew any darker.

Night had fallen by the time the volunteers had all returned to their homes, and the royal entourage arrived at the castle gates. Elsa managed to stumble her way into the chapel, before her knees gave way. She collapsed onto the floor with hands clasped so tightly, the waxy white skin covering her knuckles was on the verge of splitting. Memorable scenes from her short but eventful life flashed through her mind. The childhood accident. Thirteen years of isolation. The crossbow that had stopped inches short of her heart. Anna's frozen body. The Great Poison Fiasco. _I shouldn't be alive,_ she silently acknowledged. _But by the grace of God, I will make it to thirty-six next week. _

Time and time again, she had been miraculously spared from inevitable doom. Now her world was in danger of falling apart once more, and all she could do was pray for another miracle. Elsa lifted her teary face and peered at the starry sky through a stained-glass window. _Wherever you are, Jon, please be safe. I love you so much, my precious snowflake. I don't know what I would do if I lost you…_

* * *

"So let me get this straight." The Duke of Weselton adjusted his monocle and ran his long, bony fingers through his toupee for the umpteenth time. His eyes were wide with astonishment as Jon recounted the events leading up to his escape from Arendelle. "You stowed away on that ship, and lived in a big wooden box for almost two days. Why on earth would you do that? It must have been so uncomfortable."

Jon crossed his arms and pouted. "I was running away from home!"

The mustached man raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Running away from home?" He let out a loud, flamboyant gasp. "How could you do that to your poor mother? She'll be worried sick about you!"

Those words successfully appealed to Jon's indignation and feelings of victimization. "I don't care! I hate my mother! She lied to me!" The boy spat viciously.

"Lied to you? What did she lie about? It must have been something very serious, in order to make you run away from home?"

Jon's fists trembled with rage. "Mama promised she would never hit me, but she did!"

"People say she's the nicest, warmest, gentlest person ever. What did you to make her so angry?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Jon snapped angrily. Then he calmed down slightly. "Well, it wasn't _all_ my fault." In a frenzied tone, he recounted all that happened during the chess game.

"I'm so sorry!" The Duke feigned sympathy. "Doesn't your mother know that hitting children only helps perpetuate an endless cycle of violence? Doesn't she understand that threats and intimidation are not the proper way of teaching a lesson?"

Jon's anger seemed to wane. "Perhaps. But I did make her really angry—"

"That's not the point!" The Duke hastily interjected. "Robbie was throwing chess pieces too. But only you got in trouble. Is that fair? No!"

"I guess you're right…"

"And did your mother ever once punish Robbie for causing Daddy's accident? What a blatant double standard! You get punished for throwing chess pieces, and Robbie doesn't get punished for causing his own father's death! Can it be any more obvious that your mother plays favorites?"

Those words struck him right in the heart. A massive civil war began raging in Jon's mind. For a brief moment, his rational convictions edged his emotion and self-righteousness. "Mama says I wasn't completely innocent either. After all, I left the campsite too."

"But it was Robbie's idea to leave the campsite!" The Duke cut it. "You wouldn't have gone if not for his constant pestering, right?" Seeing Jon give a slow, ambivalent nod, he continued. "And didn't Robbie _twice_ try to attack the wild boar after you _specifically_ told him not to? He got both Daddy _and_ Sven killed." Jon's nodding became more confident.

"Mama was right that Robbie wasn't the only person who did something wrong. But it's obvious that he did _more_ wrong that you did. Yet Mama refuses to recognize that. She won't even let you be mad at Robbie."

"That's so unfair!" Jon's words exploded hot and angry. A rush of vindication and self-satisfaction coursed through his veins. Finally someone could see his side of the story! Finally someone found the words to articulate exactly what he felt. "Okay, so we all left the campsite when we weren't supposed to. But Robbie was the only one who tried to go hunting! He even wanted to steal Daddy's crossbow! How can Mama say that we're equally at fault?"

The Duke spoke in barely a whisper. "Because Mama loves Robbie more than you." He emitted a low, pensive sigh as he dropped this bombshell.

"Wait, what?"

"My poor child," the short, pompous man laid a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Don't you see? Mama clearly favors Robbie. She lets him get away with everything. How can she be a loving mother or a wise ruler, when she doesn't care about being fair? She's always picking on you!"

Jon fell silent, sipping on a glass of water as he ruminated upon this vituperative but eerily accurate assessment of his mother. "I don't know, sir," he finally managed. "What you're saying is all technically correct. But is my mother really that awful? I mean, she has done nice things to me before too…"

The Duke let out a hollow chuckle. "It's easy for her to be nice when everything is going nice and smooth, and there is no conflict. But whenever something goes wrong and she has to blame someone, she always blames you instead of Robbie. That's a fact."

Jon rubbed his temple. "I'll have to think more about this. This is all so confusing."

"Take as much time as you need, son. You and Mama both need some time to cool down, so perhaps it's better you stay apart from each other for a few more days. In the meantime, help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen." Without another word or gesture, the Duke left Jon alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Elsa had fallen asleep on one of the pews, in a frozen puddle of her own tears, when she was awoken by a soft pattering of footsteps and several hushed voices. She feebly turned over and opened her weary, swollen eyes. Under the dim moonlight, she could make out a burly man standing in the chapel doorway, with a few indiscernible people behind him.

The man cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, are you awake?" His voice revealed him to be the Captain of the Guard.

Elsa sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. "Did you find something?"

The captain shifted uneasily. "Perhaps we should carry our conversation to the Great Hall. Somewhere more warm and comfortable."

Elsa shook her head. "No. Whatever you have to say, you can say it here and now."

"Three days ago, one of our merchant vessels was hit by a massive storm on the way to the Southern Isles. It sank approximately twenty-five miles off the coast of Rogaland. There were no survivors."

Elsa felt her heart break. How many families had been broken by needless tragedy? "That's terrible," she whispered hoarsely. "Each of them was someone's husband, father or son." Her eyes filled with poignant tears at the memory of her own parents, also unfortunate victims of the hungry seas. She wanted to do something for these brave men whose lives were prematurely stolen away, and the families they left behind.

Before she could contemplate further upon the issue, Kai stepped forward out of the shadows. "Your Majesty, I'm afraid there's something else you must know about this tragic event. Something rather personal, that may hit close to your heart."

Elsa stiffened at these words. What could this possibly be about?

Kai clenched his teeth and dabbed away a tear. He drew a long, shuddering breath and willed himself to speak, but no words came out.

His agitation wrought tremendous fear and consternation in Elsa. "What is it?" she demanded in a frantic, pleading tone. "Tell me! Spit it out!"

"It's about Prince Jon."

"Impossible!" Elsa shouted, her voice crackling. "How could Jon have anything to do with this? He's been rather difficult at times these past few years, but he would never—"

Kai grimaced. Elsa had braced herself for the worst, but the truth was far more devastating than what she'd imagined. He had been the one to inform her of Fredrik's accident two years ago. He couldn't bring himself to break her heart once again. But it had to be done. "Elsa, you misunderstand me. I don't mean that Jon caused the storm. What I… What I mean is—" His voice broke and he was unable to finish.

"Just tell me, dammit!" Elsa screamed, freezing the entire chapel.

There was no more dodging and delaying. The truth had to come out. "We have reason to believe that Prince Jon was on that ship." There, he said it. The damage was done.

All was deathly silent for sixty tense seconds, as Elsa could only gape at him incredulously. "No… it can't be…" her voice came out in little more than a raspy whisper. Elsa shook her head pleadingly.

Another one of the guards stepped forward and bowed deeply. "The following items washed ashore from the wreck. It was all we were able to recover." He laid a bundle in her arms.

With trembling fingers, Elsa unwrapped the dirty, ragged canvas sheet. Lying in plain sight were several scraps of cloth matching the tunic that Jon had worn the night before his disappearance. A child-sized boot that she immediately recognized as belonging to her son. A shirt button of solid gold, which could only belong to a royal.

"You're lying!" Elsa screamed furiously, with tears streaming down her cheeks. She flung the mysterious artifacts aside. "Someone is playing a sick joke on me! And when I find him, I'll kill him!"

Kai laid a gentle, tentative hand on her shoulder. Elsa jerked away roughly. "Don't touch me!"

"This isn't all we found," he whispered miserably. "There is something else that you must see. The portly red-haired man opened his palm to reveal a beautiful medallion encrusted with the most precious stones. Beneath the moonlight, Arendelle's royal seal glowed proudly and unambiguously, enshrined for all to see. It was a sacred relic dating back nearly a thousand years. Only the monarch of Arendelle and the heir apparent had the right to bear this crest.

There could no longer be any doubt. Her worst fears had been confirmed. In that instant, Elsa's world came crashing down upon her. Her precious son was gone forever, and it was her fault. A torrential spurt of tears splattered onto the floor, as Elsa remembered their final interaction. The last thing he ever heard from his mother was a harsh scolding and the sting of a broken promise.

Elsa roughly snatched the medallion from Kai's hand. "Liar!" she shrieked hysterically. "Jon can't be dead!" She pushed her way out of the chapel, screaming Jon's name as she made a mad dash for his room.

Kai reached out to grab her arm. "Elsa, listen to me—"

"Let me go! I hate you!" She wrenched free from his grip and continued running. Finally, she collapsed in a blubbering heap in the hallway outside his door.

Elsa clung to the doorknob and dragged herself upright. She pounded helplessly against the cold, unresponsive wood. "Jon! Answer me!"

When the hallway remained deathly silent aside from her hacking sobs and the hollow reverberations of her knocking, Elsa tried again. "Jon, are you still in there? Please, just let me hear your voice."

She reached out a trembling hand and pushed open the door to reveal an empty, lifeless room. With an anguished gasp, she closed the door and pushed it back open, desperately wishing it had all been an illusion. But all she saw was nothing. Never again would Jon sit at that desk, sleep in that bed or play with those toys. Never again would she hear his voice, or see the wonder glowing in his eyes as he mastered his icy magic day by day. Never again would she her heart swell with pride as she patiently coached him in the ways of kingship, and watched him grow in knowledge and grace. Her son was dead, and it was her fault.

Elsa shuddered as a violent fit of sobs tore through her entire body. "Please come home to me, and I promise I'll be a loving mother. I can learn to control my temper. We can be a happy family again… you, me, and Robbie. I would give a thousand chess sets to have you back in my arms. Please, just give me one more chance…"

A twinkle of blue in the corner of the darkened room caught her eye. Sitting on his toy chest was a sparkling snow globe. It had been her Christmas gift to Jon when he was three years old. Elsa cradled the delicate ornament close to her chest. It was a taunting reminder of the happy days and charmed life that was gone forever.

Her fingers found a dial on the bottom of the contraption. Elsa gave the knob a sharp twist, and the soft twinkling of music filled the despondent room. It was Jon's favorite lullaby as a toddler.

_I love you forever,_

_I like you for always._

_As long as I'm living,_

_My baby you'll be._

As the song came to a halt and all was silent again, Elsa closed her eyes and cried herself into a hazy oblivion. "Good bye, Jon. I'm going to miss you so much."

**More to come!**


	21. Survivor's Remorse

**Things are looking pretty miserable for Elsa right now. So what else is there to do, but give her some comic relief with a little bit of… HANS!**

**Warning: Hans humor. If you've read this far, you probably know what that means :)**

**Chapter 21:**

King Hans of the Southern Isles uttered a string of curses under his breath as he disembarked and set foot on dry land for the first time in three days. He thrust his foot forward savagely, and sent a pebble skittering across the dock. "Well, that turned out well, didn't it?" he grumbled sarcastically.

An older gentleman patted him on the shoulder. "Your Majesty, perhaps you could try a more genteel approach with these princesses. It is my opinion that they would appreciate other aspects of your very rich personality, more than they would your brand of humor."

"What's that supposed to mean, Henry?" Hans growled at his advisor. "I've sent out twelve letters this month seeking courtship, and received only negative responses or nothing at all! It doesn't make sense! We have a strong economy, vast naval forces, and some of the best universities on the continent. Everyone wants commercial relations with us, but none of these bastards want anything to do with me as a man!"

Henry ran his fingers through his graying hair. "Perhaps a prospective consort would be more interested in your social and intellectual pursuits, as opposed to some of the more intricate details of your, um… _hobbies_."

"What's wrong with my hobbies?" Hans demanded.

Henry grimaced and reached into his pocket to retrieve an envelope. "Here is your letter to the Western Isles, seeking to court Princess Catherine, for example." Henry scanned several lines of parchment, before finding what he was looking for. He jabbed a finger at the offending line of manuscript. "I don't think _blowing cum in Frosty's face _is something you can claim as a valid hobby."

"Oh, come on!" Hans huffed impatiently. "Don't be so old-fashioned. Women appreciate honesty and boldness!"

"That is correct, Your Majesty. But you must be tactful about it." Henry pulled another envelope from the stack. "Here is another letter you wrote to the Kingdom of Finmark. I don't think Princess Ingrid was too thrilled when she saw _sucking Frosty's tits_ and _ripping Frosty's ass open a mile wide_ on your list of hobbies."

"I was _drunk_ when I wrote that!" Hans snapped defensively.

"This is the point I'm trying to make. If you want a smooth courtship, you need to abandon all these disgusting fantasies you have about Queen Elsa. She is your friend and our ally, and nothing more."

A bugle blared in the distance. Both men squinted over the fjord, and could faintly discern the outline of a ship moving over the horizon. As the vessel moved closer and closer, a mast flying Arendelle's flag could be seen silhouetted against the sky. "Speak of the devil," Hans chuckled.

Hans dropped to one knee and kissed Elsa on the hand as she stumbled down the gangplank to meet him. "Hello, my dear Frosty. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Elsa grabbed Hans by the shoulders and gazed imploringly into his eyes. "Hans! Please, tell me you know something. You must have seen him! Where is he?" she continued to babble at lightning speed.

Hans brushed her off playfully. "Whoa there, Frosty! You need to calm your dramatic butt down… into my lap."

"Jon!" Elsa shrieked hysterically. "He's disappeared!"

"That's unfortunate. How about we go up to my bedchambers, and make our own little Jon?" He winked cryptically and patted a massive bulge in the front of his pants. "And then if you come back in another nine months, we can make a little Robbie too."

Anna stepped forward and delivered a stinging slap across Hans' face. The auburn-haired man fell backwards and crashed to the ground. Before he could regain his bearings, Anna slammed her foot into his chest and knocked him back down. "Hans Sebastian Westergard, if you tell one more disgusting joke, I will rip your tongue out and shove it up your ass! This is a real emergency! Jon has been missing for five days."

Hans' juvenile demeanor and lecherous smirk vanished at once, and was replaced with genuine concern. "What? Oh no! The poor boy, where could he be?"

Anna continued in a calmer tone. "We think he was on a ship that sank on its way to the Southern Isles. Do you know anything about this? Have you seen anyone or anything wash ashore?"

Elsa fell to her knees, clinging onto Hans' hands as tears welled in her eyes. "Hans, please! Tell me you've seen him! Tell me you know something about my baby! Does he have a place to sleep at night? Does he get enough to eat? He must be so lonely and scared… and it's all thanks to me."

Hans patted her soothingly on the back. "Elsa, don't talk like that. This isn't your fault."

"Yes it is!" Elsa screamed. "Jon was running away from home! Away from me! Away from the wicked witch who calls herself his mother!"

When Hans appeared even more confused, she spilled out the entire story. "Jon and Robbie were playing chess one day. They got into a fight over the rules of the game. I sent them to their rooms when things got out of control, and they started throwing chess pieces at each other. Then Jon threw the entire board at me, and I got cut across the face." Elsa gestured vaguely at the gash that spanned her entire cheek. It had been a week since the injury was inflicted, and the lacerated flesh was healing nicely. The forty stitches were almost ready to be removed. But thin little tributaries of blood and lymph continued to trickle through the gauze covering the wound.

"Okay," Hans responded slowly and skeptically. "But I fail to see how you are the guilty party here."

"When I was trying to grab Jon, he kicked over my special chess set and broke Fredrik's piece. That's when I completely lost my mind. I beat him with a broom handle, after I promised I would never hit him. That must be why Jon ran away. Because his mother is an evil witch who loves a chess set more than she loves her own son."

Hans pursed his lips. "We did receive notice that a ship from Arendelle sank somewhere between Rogaland and Stavanger. But I'm sorry to say that that's the limit of my knowledge. We can deploy our coast guard to search for—"

"It's no use," Elsa mumbled in barely a whisper. "It's been five days. The ship sank a hundred miles from your nearest port. There were no survivors, and even if there were, they would never have made it this far." She lowered her head and wept silently but profusely. "Let's face it. Jon isn't coming back, and it's all my fault. Oh Jon, I'm so sorry…"

Anna pulled her sister into a tight embrace. "Don't talk like that Elsa. You must hold onto every last shred of hope that Jon is alive out there somewhere. Probably wishing he had done some things differently too, and missing you very much." Deep down inside, Anna knew that Elsa was right. The chance of Jon surviving was negligible at best. She didn't want to give Elsa any false hope, or further crush her already broken, wounded spirit. The red-haired princess had never been any good with words. Anna didn't know what to say.

Hans came to her rescue. "Why don't we write to all our neighboring kingdoms? Leave no stone unturned, and ask for every bit of information regarding the shipwreck. Anything is better than not knowing."

Elsa smiled gratefully and nodded through her tears. Indeed, anything was better than grappling blindly in the darkness, not having any closure. She let Hans wrap his arms around her. "Elsa, don't be too hard on yourself. It's not your fault."

She shook her head and emitted a low, melancholic sigh. "I wish I could believe that."

* * *

The weeks flew by, and no news of Jon's whereabouts had surfaced. The more the issue was investigated, the more certain Elsa was about the fate of those who had been on that ship. Not a single survivor had been found, despite the indefatigable efforts of rescuers in every neighboring land. Aside from a few scraps of wood and canvas, there was nothing left of the ill-fated vessel.

As she came to terms with the inescapable reality that Jon was forever beyond the reach of her embrace, her heart crumbled to pieces. Day after day, Elsa moved about in a catatonic state, feeling numb and empty inside. She hid away in the sanctuary of her study and buried herself in a mountain of paperwork. Sometimes she would spend the entire day in the library, reading the same books a hundred times over without absorbing a thing. Anything to keep her mind occupied, lest it completely overflow with grief and self-loathing.

Elsa's seat at the dining table was also unoccupied at every single meal. Only the trails of ice along the hallways and the faint sounds of crying from behind her closed door indicated that the Snow Queen was still alive.

Her nighttime ritual was perhaps even more heartbreaking. Almost every single evening was spent with Elsa and Robert holding each other, with tears streaming as they spoke of the happy memories they shared. Of the perfect family that once was. Elsa would stay by his bedside for hours after the six year-old was asleep, cradling him in her arms and speaking softly. "Mommy loves you so much, Robbie." The tears froze as they fell. "We only have each other now. Hold on to me, and I will hold on to you."

At this particular moment, Elsa was sitting on her bed, hugging a set of Jon's clothes tightly to her chest. "Jon, I don't know if you can hear me right now," she began in a quavering voice. "I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. How much I miss you." Tears blurred her vision as she continued staring at the night sky. "You were the center of my universe, and I love you more than anything… you and your brother. I don't know what to do anymore, except pray for a miracle. But I don't deserve a miracle after what I've done."

The tears continued to fall. "I was supposed to love you, protect you, make you feel safe and accepted. The world is a cruel place. Home and family is the one thing you should always be able to rely on, as a sanctuary away from the world. It's the one place where you should never have to worry about being hurt."

Elsa glanced miserably around her room, then looked down at the bundle of clothes in her arms. A child's clothes. _Her_ child's clothes. Then it dawned that she had failed at her most important duty in life. Above being a good girl for her parents. Above being the model student for her tutors. Above being Queen of Arendelle. She failed at being a mother. Just the day after Jon's disappearance, she was supposed to be taking him to Grand Pabbie. The troll elder would evaluate Jon's icy magic and his mental state, and then point them towards a solution. But she had failed at even that. She couldn't even maintain a conflict-free environment for one day. Instead, she had driven her son away in a burst of thoughtless anger, and no one could help him now.

A rapid torrent of tears drenched the front of her dress. "I'm so sorry I failed to give you a loving home. I'm sorry I failed to help you. I was so selfish, completely blinded by rage and self-pity… I didn't stop to consider your feelings. I love you so much, snowflake. I would die for you or Robbie without a second thought…"

A sharp knock on the door caught Elsa's attention. She plugged her ears and continued to wallow in grief and remorse. But the knocking only became more persistent. "Elsa, it's me!" Anna's voice rang from the other side of the door.

"Go away, Anna."

"Oh no, you don't! We are not going back to this. Everyone is worried sick about you. You've hardly eaten or slept at all this entire week!"

"Well, I don't even know if I'm alive anymore," Elsa mumbled miserably.

"Elsa, open this door right now! It's not healthy to lock yourself up like this."

_Tell me something I don't already know,_ Elsa thought bitterly as she pulled the door open. But when she saw the concern shining in Anna's eyes, her resistances melted away. Every last bit of shame, self-loathing, and desire to be alone vanished. The blonde threw herself into her sister's arms, and was gathered in.

Anna's heart broke at the sight of her poised, graceful sister reduced to a sobbing wreck. Elsa was almost thirty-six, but still looked not a day older than twenty-one. She was as beautiful as ever, but had never looked so fragile. Her bright blue eyes were completely dulled and barren. Both cheeks were hollow and her skin was deathly pale. She had become emaciated from chronic malnutrition and sleeplessness, in addition to the grief that consumed her from the inside out. Elsa hardly looked alive at all.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes, until Elsa finally broke the silence. "Mama and Papa should've killed me the day I was born."

"What?" Anna shrieked. "Do you even hear what you're saying? How could you suggest something so ridiculous?"

"I'm a curse to this family."

"Elsa, we've been over this before. Your powers are a gift, not a curse. We didn't understand that before, but we do now." Then her expression softened. "If Mama and Papa could see you now, they would be so proud of all you've become."

"It's not just my powers, it's everything about me!" Elsa spat. "_I _am a curse! Have you noticed that everyone who gets too close to me winds up dead? First we lost Mama and Papa. Then I almost lost you, and three years later, I almost died. Then it was Fredrik, and now Jon!" Elsa dissolved into a fit of sobs. "Why, Anna? It isn't fair. Why can't I ever catch a break?"

Anna didn't know how to respond. If she tried to say anything, she would inevitably start rambling, as she always did. She would probably bombard Elsa with a barrage of corny and vacuous statements that would not help at all. But she had to try.

"I don't know, Elsa," she finally managed. "I don't know why things like this keep happening. But it's not your fault. Having bad things happen to you doesn't mean you're a bad person."

Elsa buried her face into Anna's shoulder. "People say that when you're a kid, the worst thing that can happen is losing your parents. When you're grown up, it's losing your child. Then when you're even older, it's losing your husband or wife. I've been through all three, and I'm not even forty yet!"

Before Anna could respond, a streak of lightning illuminated the inky sky, followed by a crash of thunder over the fjord. Elsa winced aloud at the sound of waves crashing against the sand. She wondered how many more innocent lives would be stolen by the seas.

"Anna," she began timidly. "Could you maybe stay with me tonight? It gets kinda lonely here sometimes, and this room is awfully big for just one person…" her voice trailed off.

Anna squeezed her hand comfortingly. "As long as I'm around, you will never be alone."

**More on Jon and the Duke in the next chapter! **


	22. Forgery

**Chapter 22:**

"I've decided that I want to go home," Jon announced. It had been nearly two months since he arrived in Weselton. After many nights of contemplation and reflection, the ten year-old had made up his mind.

"Home?" The Duke repeated.

Jon nodded. "Even though I really like it here, I think I've been away from home for long enough. I'm still a little mad at Mama. But I gotta admit that I kind of miss her. Robbie, too. I mean, we don't always get along with each other, but we're still a family."

The Duke smiled and patted Jon on the shoulder. "Wise decision, my boy. Now let me go tell your mother the good news."

"I'll come with you!" Jon said enthusiastically.

"No!" The Duke blurted more harshly than intended. Then his expression and tone instantly softened. "What I mean is, it's best we let her know in writing first. That will give her some time to prepare a nice warm welcome for you." With a pacifying smile, he turned to exit the room.

The wily, unscrupulous man slithered down a series of hallways and spiral staircases, before creeping into his study. A furtive glance over the shoulder revealed that he was indeed all alone. He grinned devilishly, before pulling open a drawer to retrieve a fresh envelope. Stuffing it with a sheet of blank parchment, he hastily sealed it shut and scrawled an address on the backside. Finally, the front was stamped with the official seal of Weselton. The Duke beamed to himself as he turned the envelope back and forth, admiring his handiwork.

Jon was in the courtyard playing ball with a few of the stable boys, when the Duke pulled him aside. Proudly brandishing the phony letter, he spoke. "Rest assured, this envelope will be on her desk before the sun sets. I've explained everything, told her you needed some time to recover physically and mentally before going back. I'm sure your mother will understand. She will be so happy to see you. In fact, she'll probably send out a whole fleet of ships to welcome you back home."

The young prince smiled gratefully. "I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me, sir. It was so kind of you to take me in like that."

"Thank me by taking care of yourself, son. We've all done things we regret, and we've all hurt people we love. But it is never too late to make peace, as long as both sides are willing to admit their wrong and move forward in a positive direction." The pompous little man gave a hearty chuckle. "Now, this letter isn't gonna deliver itself, is it? I better get going now." He scampered towards the dock, where a ship full of packages and parcels was ready to set sail.

Once he was out of Jon's earshot and vision, the Duke glanced back over his shoulder to confirm that no one was listening. Then he spoke in hushed tones to several of the crew members. "I convinced the boy that I've written to his mother. But we all know what needs to happen." He gleefully rubbed his hands together and lowered his voice another octave. "You better make damn sure this letter meets a _tragic_ accident at the bottom of the sea."

* * *

Six year-old Robert laid his head in his mother's lap, and gazed up at her with wide green eyes. "Mommy, I miss Jon. Even though Jon was mean to me sometimes, I'm still gonna miss him."

"I miss him too, sweetie." Elsa patted her son lovingly on the back. The Snow Queen had always made sure to spend time with her boys every day, no matter how busy she was. But ever since Jon's demise, she would especially go out of her way to dote on Robbie. He was all she had left. Elsa would set aside at least several hours every day to read to him, play a game of his choosing, or simply listen as he poured out his thoughts and asked whatever questions he had in mind. "I don't know if you still remember, Robbie, but Jon used to be the sweetest, most loving big brother there ever was. You were the best of friends. That's the Jon I like to remember..." Elsa began tearing up at the memory of the loving son who was now gone forever.

Many times throughout the past two years, whenever she was out in the village, she would hear the hushed whispers of townspeople gossiping about what a monster Prince Jon had become. Wishing death upon the _little demon_. A substantial number of people even seemed indifferent, or borderline happy, about his death. Their cruel words tore Elsa's heart to shreds. But she could not deny that these statements, however tactless and distasteful they sounded, were at their core accurate. Only in her memory was Jon still the sweet, lovable child he once was. No matter how unpleasant and unlikeable he was in the eyes of others, Jon would forever be her precious little snowflake.

"But what happened?" Robbie asked. "I remember Jon was nice a long time ago. Why did he turn mean? Is it because I did something bad?"

"No, Robbie. You've been a very good boy." Elsa picked him up and set the child in her lap. She smiled lovingly as she felt his weight against her body. Her baby was growing up, and soon he would be too heavy for her to hold. "Jon had a really hard time when Daddy died. Sometimes he would say mean things because he felt so much hurt and anger. But I do believe that deep down inside, Jon really did care about you. You're his brother and his best friend."

"But Jon ran away from home. He must not love us anymore."

She planted a kiss on Robbie's cheek. "Jon made some bad choices, and sometimes I feel hurt or confused by the things he did. But we can't let that take away all the wonderful memories we have together. Jon was once a loving brother and son, and a part of our family. Those are the memories we can focus on."

Robbie suddenly burst into tears at a disturbing memory. "I killed Jon!" he screamed through loud, hacking sobs. "When me and Jon were playing chess, I got mad and I said I wish I didn't have a brother anymore! And now Jon is dead!"

Thirteen years of _conceal, don't feel_ couldn't stop the tears from pouring down Elsa's cheeks. At the tender age of six, Robbie still believed in the power of wishes. The poor child believed he was at fault for his brother's demise.

She hugged him tightly to her chest. "No, sweetie. This isn't your fault. Brothers and sisters don't always get along with each other. Fighting and arguing is a normal part of growing and maturing as a person. You had no way of knowing that this would happen." _It's not your fault. It's mine, _Elsa thought miserably.

Robbie began to calm down at these words. "I love you, Mommy. I hope we die at the same time, so I never have to live without you. Then we can go to heaven to be with Daddy and Jon."

"Me too, Robbie," Elsa whispered back. "If I ever lost you, I would die."

* * *

"You idiot!" The Duke grabbed one of the crew members by the collar, and shook him back and forth in mock outrage. He stifled a grin and continued his phony tirade. "Do you have difficulty understanding the simplest instructions?"

"Your Grace, I swear I delivered that letter successfully." The other man feigned confusion perfectly. "I docked in Arendelle harbor and had it personally handed to her steward. The big, tall guy with red hair. What's his name? Kai?"

"Well, you'd better make damn sure this next letter makes it onto her desk!" The Duke interjected. "In case you haven't noticed, there is a child here who has been separated from his mother under the most traumatic circumstances. He is counting on you to bring him home again! We are losing precious time due to your incompetence and inefficiency!" He shook his head apologetically at Jon, and continued to berate the man.

The sailor put on a phony air of contrition. "Arendelle is only a day away by boat. If you write to her again, we will have it delivered by tomorrow."

"Can we do that?" Jon asked.

"_Can_ we?" The Duke sputtered, flabbergasted. "Of course we can! The question is, can this careless idiot be trusted to remember the simplest instructions? He certainly hasn't proven himself trustworthy."

The man on the boat grimaced. "Your Grace, I promise that this time, I will not return until I have a response from her. I will pester her to the ends of the earth, until she acknowledges that she's received your message. The next time you see me again, I will have her response in my hand."

"You'd better…" The Duke mumbled through clenched teeth. Then he cleared his throat and spoke in a gentler tone. "Perhaps I've been a little too hard on you. Perhaps it's Arendelle's postal system that is truly to blame." He turned to face Jon, who was chewing on his nails as he listened intently. "Jon, if we don't hear back from your mother in a week, we will stop writing. Instead, we'll put you on the next ship, and send you straight back to Arendelle. We can't afford any more of these delays, can we?" The Duke gave the other man a wink that Jon couldn't see.

"Sounds great!" Jon agreed enthusiastically. Then his excitement withered somewhat. "But Mama never forgets anything. Why wouldn't she write back?" There was a trace of hurt and despair in his tone.

The Duke patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "I'm sure she is completely frantic with worry right now. That's probably why she's being forgetful. But no matter what happens, rest assured you will be on your way home by the end of the week."

As Jon ran to join in a game of rugby between the stable boys in the castle courtyard, the Duke clenched his teeth and swore under his breath. "The boy is getting too smart for his own good," he muttered softly. "This looks like a job for a certain Wesley Butler, the greatest forgery artist this kingdom has ever seen. Now I'm sure I have a sample of the witch's handwriting somewhere..."

* * *

_Several days later…_

"Finally!" The Duke was beaming at Jon as he brandished a letter bearing the seal of Arendelle. The back of the envelope was covered with what was unmistakably Elsa's neat, dainty handwriting. "I have no idea what took so long, but better late than never." The gray-haired man whipped a metal file out of his desk, and sliced open the envelope. Whistling a merry tune, his eyes scanned down the length of the letter. As he continued to read, his cheerful expression slowly began to wither. The Duke's eyebrows vanished into his toupee as sheer incredulity overtook his features. But it wouldn't stop there. His mouth dropped open and his breath came out in short, ragged gasps by the time he was through. "No, no… it can't be! Someone is playing a sick joke on us. There must be a mistake."

"What?" Jon demanded impatiently. "What does it say?"

The Duke shook his head hastily. "Don't bother. There must have been a misunderstanding of some sort. Your mother most certainly did not write this. Some idiot is messing with us."

Jon caught a glimpse of the letter before he could stuff it out of sight. "That is definitely Mama's handwriting. And her signature. I'd recognize it anywhere." With a sigh of resignation, the Duke handed over the sheet of parchment.

_Duke Phillip Oskar Hapsburg of Weselton,_

_I thank you for informing me regarding the whereabouts of my son. Your consideration is very much appreciated, but I must inform you that these sentiments, however noble they may be, are wholly superfluous and unnecessary. This renegade son of mine has fled the country under unlawful pretenses, in conjunction to exhibiting more than two years of abhorrent behavior. He is a selfish, ill-mannered, obstreperous, and violent child with an outlandish sense of entitlement and a wanton refusal to take any responsibility for his actions. His detestable personal qualities and constant abuse of power make him a poor candidate for inheriting the throne. It is my firm conviction that Jon is not an asset to this family or kingdom, and thus I have no intentions of reclaiming him as my heir or my son. Please do not pester me again, unless you truly have something important to say. _

_Yours Truly,_

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

"No…" Jon's voice came out in barely a whisper. "This is impossible…" His bright blue eyes began welling with tears as the boy shook his head in disbelief.

The Duke patted him jovially on the back. "Don't let it bother you, my dear boy. I'm telling you, I really don't think your Mama wrote this letter."

"Yes she did!" Jon spat furiously, with a massive deluge of tears now spilling down his shirt. "This is definitely Mama's handwriting! I know she wrote this! Mama doesn't want me back!"

"I could try writing to her again," The Duke offered, faking sympathy. He shivered and pulled his coat tightly around his body, as snow began to fall from the ceiling. "Maybe we can change her mind. If Mama could only see how much you miss her—"

"What's the point?" Jon sniveled. "Let's face it. Mama never wants to see me again. I guess you were right. Mama doesn't need me as long as she has Robbie…"

"But what about the seal?" The Duke suggested. "Are you sure that's the official crest of Arendelle? It could be a fake. Maybe it really is someone playing a really vile joke."

Jon coughed and sputtered incoherently for several minutes before finding his voice again. "There's no doubt about it. I've seen a million documents and envelopes stamped with that seal. No one could fake it this well." The ten year-old collapsed to the floor in a fit of grief, as he continued to tremble and sob. Flakes of snow and ice hung lifelessly in the air. "Oh Mama, I promise I'll be good if you take me back! Just give me one more chance! Please, I love you... I need you..."

_Nicely done, Wesley, _the Duke thought smugly. _You sneaky bastard. The boy bought it hook, line, and sinker. _

**Jon will start getting a little suspicious of the Duke in the next chapter. Stay tuned!**


	23. The Prodigal Son

**One of our Guest reviewers asked me to bring back Fredrik in a dream. So here we are!**

**Warning:**** Some profanity, but nothing too bad**

**Chapter 23:**

A flurry of snow swirled about the room, as the wind battered mercilessly against the closed windows. But nothing compared to the storm within. Pale blue eyes stared numbly at the window, not truly seeing the blizzard reflected in the glassy panes. Or the reflection of a crestfallen face. Tears welled in Jon's eyes before spilling down his cheeks and dripping onto the floor. He was all alone in this big, empty world. Doomed to wander the earth alone and unloved, until Death mercifully claimed him.

"And it's my fault too," Jon mumbled. More tears leaked out the corner of his eyes, as a gust of sobs shook his entire body. He did it to himself. If he hadn't run away from home, he wouldn't have wound up without one. If he hadn't tried to assert his independence in such a prideful and recalcitrant manner, he wouldn't have wound up ostracized and alone.

Jon waved his fingers to summon up a little icy harp, and tried to comfort himself with the sweet melodies of his childhood. He plucked at the strings with trembling fingers and aching joints, but the music brought him no comfort. The empty, hollow sound reverberated throughout the room, taunting him with elusive memories of the happy childhood that was gone forever. How he wished Mama were here to sing to him. Jon threw down the harp and buried his face between his knees. All was lost.

Every night at bedtime, Elsa would read a story to him and Robbie. Sometimes they would all sing a song together. Never again would he partake in that heartwarming ritual. Never again would he feel the warmth of family. Never again would he have anyone to call him their own. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Mama would often read to him and Robbie out of a big book of children's Bible stories. To the younger boy, they were just cute stories. But Jon was old enough to understand some of the deeper moral and spiritual implications. One of Mama's favorites was the parable of the Prodigal Son. A beautiful story of redemption and reconciliation between a wayward youth and the father he forsook. The foolish lad could not reclaim his portion of the inheritance; that was the natural consequence of his bad judgment and profligate lifestyle. But his repentant heart and contrite spirit had won him something far more valuable in return. He regained the family he had lost.

"No matter how badly you mess up, it is never too late to turn around. You can never be so far lost, that you are beyond the reach of love," Mama had explained to an eight year-old Jon and a four year-old Robbie.

_Yes you can,_ Jon thought miserably. _And I've done it. _His family was gone forever, and it was his fault. If he tried hard enough, could he conjure up those warm cozy feelings that he would never again experience for real? Could he convince himself that this was all a bad dream?

A million thoughts, words, sounds and images raced through his head as Jon closed his eyes and collapsed onto the bed. But one stood out far above the rest.

_I no longer have a home or a family. _

* * *

_Late that night…_

Jon tossed and turned fitfully in his sleep, tormented by a disturbing dream.

"Jon," The deep, powerful voice sounded vaguely familiar. "Look at yourself. What have you become?"

Jon whirled around aimlessly. All he could see was an infinite stretch of impenetrable darkness, extending in all directions. Only a tiny pinprick of light interrupted the endless field of black. The outline of a huge, hulking man could be faintly seen in the distance. "Who are you?"

"The real question is, who are _you_? Or who do you think you are?"

The ten year-old trembled with fear. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?"

The strange voice chuckled darkly. "A name means nothing, Prince Jon of Arendelle. Names and titles are skin-deep. It's what you do, and not who you are, that defines you as a man. Didn't Mama ever teach you that?"

"Well..." Jon began tremulously, "Mama taught me many things, but—"

"But you didn't listen." The man interjected harshly. "You spat in her face and turned your back on everything you knew was right. Mama poured her heart into raising you and Robbie, and all you gave her in return was a big _Fuck You_. I guess I didn't beat your impudent little ass hard enough that day in the candy store."

Jon's eyes widened in shock. "Papa?"

Fredrik nodded grimly. "An impeccable deduction, my son."

The ten year-old's voice broke as he rushed forward with arms open wide. "Oh Papa, I've missed you so much! Please, just let me—"

But Fredrik pushed him aside, rebuffing his feeble entreaty for comfort and affection. His eyes were devoid of all emotion. "If you're looking for sympathy, you've come to the wrong man."

Jon's legs buckled as he sank weakly to the floor. Was there no one left in the world, alive or deceased, who cared about him? Was he truly all alone? Had he truly gone so far down the wrong path, he was forever and irreversibly alienated from all who loved him? Tears welled in the boy's eyes. "Papa, I don't understand…"

"Shame on you, Jon. Have you learned nothing at all from all your training? A prince takes responsibility for his own actions. A prince is never too prideful to accept discipline or correction. You pushed away everyone who cared about you and went your own way. Now you're in trouble. You are the only person who can get yourself out of this mess."

Tears slithered down Jon's cheeks and froze as they fell. "But Mama doesn't want me back. No matter what I say, she never wants to—"

"Talk is cheap, Jon." Fredrik's tone remained flat and unsympathetic. "The way you've been treating Mama these past two years… I swear to God, if I were still alive, I'd whip you till your intestines came spilling out your ass." Fredrik shook his head with disgust and incredulity. "What makes you think you can give a simple _oops, I messed up_, after causing everyone so much grief, and then act as if nothing happened? Aren't you ashamed of yourself? The Prodigal Son had to swallow his pride, beg for forgiveness, and spend the rest of his life atoning for his mistake. What makes you think you can go back _just like that_?"

"I don't understand…" Jon sputtered weakly. "What do I need to do?"

Fredrik's emerald eyes blazed with anger as he began removing his belt. "Do I need to slice up your ass again?" he roared.

"No!" Jon shrieked, with voice trembling and tears streaming. His hands immediately flew up to cover his rear. "No Papa, please don't!"

Fredrik's temper abated, as he slowly dropped the hand holding the belt. "Mama needs to see real repentance, instead of all this perfunctory bullshit that you call _apologies _and _promises_. I swear, if you made a snowflake every time you've _promised_ to behave yourself, you could set off ten eternal winters. Now get your little butt onto the next ship to Arendelle. Throw yourself on the ground and beg Mama to take you back. Promise to stop acting like such an obnoxious little shit. And actually do it this time."

Jon lowered his head in shame and contrition. "Yes, Papa."

Fredrik's stony face broke into the slightest smile, as he patted Jon on the head. "There's a good boy. Accountability is the mark of a king in training. Off you go, now."

* * *

Jon bolted upright in bed, clutching at his pounding heart and drenched in icy sweat. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps. Fredrik was nowhere to be seen. But his voice rang loud and clear in Jon's mind, and his words powerful and resounding. The boy knew what he had to do.

The young prince hurriedly dressed himself and clambered out of bed. He tripped over his own feet and stubbed his toe against the doorframe as he tumbled out into the hallway. Steadying himself, Jon pattered softly down the carpet and made his way to the Duke's study. A thin streak of light beneath the door indicated that the pompous little man was present. Jon raised a fist and knocked tentatively.

The shuffling of papers sounded faintly from within the room. A few seconds later, the door creaked open to reveal a mildly annoyed and flustered Duke. "What brings you here so early in the morning, my boy? Can I help you?"

"I apologize for disturbing you, sir."

The Duke waved his hand dismissively and patted him on the back. "Nonsense. What can I do for you on this fine Saturday morning?"

Jon drew in a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot about Mama's letter. I'm pretty sure she really did write that." He paused, waiting for a response. When none was given, he continued, "Maybe Mama just needs to see how sorry I am about all this. Maybe if I could talk to her face-to-face, and really apologize to her, then I can change her mind."

The Duke raised an eyebrow and spoke hesitantly. "You want to stop writing letters, and just go straight back to see Mama?"

"Yes!" Jon nodded enthusiastically. Then he faltered slightly. "If she doesn't turn me away the moment I arrive. I hope she at least gives me a chance to show how sorry I am."

At these words, the Duke gave a very flamboyant grimace and clutched at his chest. He lifted his monocle to dab at a nonexistent tear. "My poor child…"

"Can we do that?" Jon asked.

The Duke continued to feign grief. He turned to blow loudly and obnoxiously into a handkerchief. "I would be more than happy to, but you see, there have been some _complications_. You poor boy… This morning, there was another, another…"

"Another what?" Jon pushed impatiently.

His voice cracked into a high-pitched whine. "Another letter from your mother. I wrote to her again a few days after the first letter. Here is what she said." _Or should I say, here is another brilliant work of art from my dear friend Wesley. _The Duke continued his obsequious sniveling and broke all eye contact, as he handed Jon another envelope bearing the seal of Arendelle.

_Duke Phillip Oskar Hapsburg of Weselton,_

_Allow me to reiterate the sentiments conveyed in our previous correspondence. As I have made very clear, I see no reason to reclaim this son of mine. I will have no further involvement in his affairs. Whatever happens to him from this day forth is no longer my concern. Please do not contact me any more pertaining to my renegade son, as the matter is not open to further discussion._

_Please recall that I requested a desistance to all communication between our kingdoms, in the wake of the Copenhagen Trade Summit of 1791. No vessel flying the flag of Weselton, regardless of its purpose or intent, is permitted within fifty miles of Arendelle's borders. Failure to comply will be construed as an Act of War under International Statute. _

_To put it in words you can understand, you and your pathetic nation will be blown off the map if I see another one of your ships sailing into our waters. Consider this a final warning._

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

"No!" Jon shrieked in horror. "This can't be happening!" The boy rubbed his eyes and stared incredulously at what was unmistakably his mother's neat, dainty handwriting. Then he collapsed to the floor in unspeakable anguish. "Mama, please! Give me one chance! I just wanna come home…"

The Duke expertly feigned sympathy as he pulled Jon into a hug. He was only a few inches taller than the blonde-haired boy. "I'm so sorry," he managed in a tortured whisper.

Jon continued to tremble and sob for several more minutes. As the initial shock and grief of his mother's rejection died down, some more practical concerns settled in. Fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what his future would bring. He was ten years old and had no home, no family, and nowhere to go. An orphan and vagabond, condemned to die in complete and utter abandonment. His mind overflowed with terrifying visions of an emaciated young boy with filthy hair and tattered clothes, huddled on a street corner. Hordes of benignly oblivious strangers walking by as he perished in hunger and illness, and lay eternally forgotten beneath a bridge. A lonely child peering into the window of a stranger's home on a cold winter night, tears streaming down his grimy cheeks as he watched the family enjoy their Christmas feast, his heart breaking as he gazed longingly into a room full of warmth, laughter and love.

"What am I gonna do? Where will I go?" Jon wondered aloud. His heart shattered with grief and betrayal. Mama had left him all alone in the world, with no one left to care for him. What hope could there be for someone like him? Jon's mind flashed back to the day Mama told him the story of the Prodigal Son. "Oh Mama, how could you leave me? You told me that you would always love me no matter what. But you lied. You said that God would always forgive me ... so why won't you?" Jon's voice trailed off as he continued to weep incoherently.

The Duke laid a comforting hand on Jon's shoulder. "You are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you like. We have plenty of food, lots of extra rooms in our castle, and a whole library full of books to keep you occupied."

Jon fell to his knees in gratitude. "You would do that for me? Sir, I couldn't possibly impose myself on you for any longer. You've been so kind to me already."

"Until Mama comes to her senses, you can consider Weselton your second home. I will not have you living in the streets, no matter who you are or what you've done." The Duke wiped away a nonexistent tear. "After all, you remind me of my son when he was your age."

"Thank you, thank you!" Jon buried his face into the Duke's shoulder and wept in relief. A shuddering spasm of joy pulsed through his entire body. He was an unwanted child who wasn't even loved by his own mother. But out of the ashes of rejection and despair, a stranger had mercifully taken him in. This man given him a home, showered him with love and acceptance, and rescued him from the darkness of the world. He was no longer a hopeless orphan, but a beloved son.

But in spite of it all, he couldn't shake the intense feelings of hurt and betrayal wrought by his mother's rejection. Jon couldn't suppress the overwhelming anger at Elsa for throwing him away like a piece of trash. She had forever shut him outside the gates of her heart, and left him to die ostracized and alone.

The Duke must have sensed what Jon was feeling, as he regained his composure and put on a stately demeanor. "Come with me, Jon. I want to show you something. It's time you learned the truth about the woman you once called Mother."

**What will Jon be "learning" about Elsa?**


	24. Mother

**Sorry, my Author's Note at the end of Chapter 22 was a little misleading. This is the chapter in which Jon starts having nagging suspicions! **

**Chapter 24:**

The wheels creaked and the carriage wobbled as the horses trotted over the bumpy dirt roads through Weselton's countryside. No one had spoken for nearly half an hour.

Jon watched with wide, attentive eyes as they journeyed through what was easily one of the poorest villages in all of Weselton. Vast expanses of dilapidated wooden shacks and abandoned fields, strewn with withered crops and broken equipment, stretched for as far as the eye could see. Families with six, seven, eight or more children, their faces sallow with hunger and parasitism, and their emaciated bodies clad in tattered garments, toiled beneath the sun.

Only a messy lattice of fencing delineated one residence from another. What passed for fences were the remains of broom handles, tree branches, rakes and hoes, haphazardly strung together with rusty chicken wire and greasy strips of cloth from old potato sacks. Lopsided chunks of wood, festering with mildew and insects, lined the bottom of each fence, creating a feeble barrier against rats.

The ten year-old became increasingly uncomfortable as they journeyed further through the slums. Such abject poverty was nearly nonexistent in Arendelle, as his parents had worked tirelessly to elevate the living standards of every citizen in their kingdom. But what unnerved him the most were the resentful eyes and irate whispers that were constantly thrown his way. Finally, he could contain his curiosity no longer.

"What's going on?" Jon asked the Duke. "What are we doing here?"

"Learning the truth," the Duke responded simply, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. Slowly, one of his guards brought the carriage to a halt.

"The truth about what?" Jon queried.

Before the Duke could respond, an irate middle-aged man threw down his hoe and stood up straight to address the young prince. "Ask the woman you call Mother!" he shouted angrily.

"What?" Jon was completely taken aback. "What does she have to do with anything?"

The Duke sighed. "She has everything to do with what I have come to show you." He gave a wistful, quivering sigh. "You see where we are, Jon? This was once a prosperous little village, full of happy, healthy people. Until—"

"Until the witch single-handedly destroyed us all!" The same man interrupted furiously. He then turned to address the Duke. "Tell the boy everything!"

A woman wearing a tattered white apron and carrying a crying infant in her arms spoke up shrilly. "My children go to bed hungry every night, never knowing when they'll find their next meal." She hugged the baby tighter to her chest. "And my youngest here is dying of pellagra. All because of that wicked sorceress!" At these words, intermittent cries of "Death to the Witch!" rang out from several more people.

Jon became increasingly flustered as the _Death to the Witch_ chants grew louder and louder. "What are you talking about? How the hell is my mother responsible for any of that?"

The Duke raised his hand, and the shouts slowly abated. "Fifteen years ago, I was a guest at your mother's coronation. She and I did not see eye-to-eye on some issues. As a result, she cut off trade with Weselton, and convinced everyone else to do the same. Before long, we lost every single one our trade partners. Our kingdom has been on a downward spiral into poverty and destitution ever since."

He paused to let these words sink in. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I tried to reason with her. Even if she dislikes me as an individual, it wouldn't be fair for her to punish a whole nation full of innocent people. I mean, none of them ever did anything to offend her." The Duke vaguely gestured at the growing crowd of impoverished villagers.

"But Mama said you tried to kill her," Jon protested. "She also said that she gave you many chances, but you kept trying to cheat her."

"Lies!" someone shouted. Incoherent yells of agreement erupted from at least several dozen other people.

The Duke patted Jon on the back. "My dear boy," he simpered, "Your mother promised she would never hit you. But she broke her promise. She also lied to Auntie Anna for thirteen years, didn't she?"

"I guess…" Jon stammered. "But—"

"I tried to make amends," The Duke lied smoothly. "I apologized for everything I'd ever said to offend her. But she refused to listen. She would rather see thousands of innocent people starve to death, than make a simple compromise. Auntie Anna forgave her after she lied for thirteen years. Arendelle forgave her after the Great Freeze. Yet she can't even forgive you or me for such trifling things. See what a cold-hearted monster she is?"

Someone else spoke in a calmer tone. "Your mother is a very clever woman, and a most talented liar. She is also a most unforgiving person. She would not accept our Duke's apology, no matter how sincere he was. The witch turned every kingdom against us, and completely destroyed our economy. A few years ago, we went through a massive famine that killed forty percent of Weselton's children. No one sent us any aid, because of her. Children starved to death by the millions, and no one came to help them."

Jon felt his mind torn apart by confusion. What he was seeing and hearing was so diametrically different from everything he had ever learned. Every book he'd ever read, and every tutor he'd ever studied under, had told him that Weselton's troubles were due to the Duke's lack of integrity and professionalism. "But Mama told me it was only ten percent. She offered to send food and other supplies, but the Duke refused."

"The witch is the greatest liar this world has ever seen!" An elderly man wearing a straw hat barked furiously. His arthritic joints creaked loudly and cacophonously as he waved a rake in the air. "She has used her satanic magic and her vile gift of propaganda to destroy our proud nation! Death to the witch!"

"My mother is not a witch!" Jon asserted with much more confidence than he felt. "She would never do something so terrible."

"Death to the witch!" the crowd echoed in unison. "Burn her alive!" More and more people joined the fray, screaming with barbaric fervor.

The Duke slipped back into the carriage and smirked discreetly to himself. "The boy is too clever for his own good…" he seethed. "He's asking too many questions, putting up far too much resistance." He slid a hand into his pocket, and withdrew a little glass vial labeled _Memory Potion_, spelled out in Ancient Runic script. The Duke grinned devilishly as he turned the vial back and forth in his fingers. "Another gift from my dear friend Wesley."

* * *

Six year-old Robbie hopped up to the counter in the bakery. "Hello Mr. Dahl!" he called out in a bright, cheery voice. The little boy stood on tiptoe to deposit a basket full of cookies and chocolate cake on the counter.

The older man smiled down at the youngster. "Prince Robert," he dipped into a bow. "That's a lot of goodies you've got there!"

"It's for Mommy's birthday!" the child proudly reported. Indeed, Elsa's thirty-sixth birthday was just around the corner, although the Snow Queen still looked twenty-one. "And after that, I'm going to the butcher's to buy Mommy a present!"

"The butcher's?" Mrs. Dahl repeated incredulously.

"Yes!" Robert shouted excitedly. "I'm going to buy a bunch of sausages for Mommy!"

The couple was taken aback by this odd revelation. Queen Elsa was incredibly disciplined and conscientious, and was the last person they'd expect to have such decadent dietary habits. "I didn't know Mommy liked sausage so much."

"Uncle Hans said so!" Robbie blurted, his bright green eyes twinkling with merriment. "He said that Mommy loves to suck on fat, juicy sausages!"

Mr. Dahl had to choke back a snort of laughter. "What else did Uncle Hans say?"

"Mommy craps rainbows and unicorns!" Robbie was all too eager to share more delectable information.

Isabella stepped out from the storage room. Robbie turned to address her. "Do you sell tits? I want to buy a present for Uncle Hans too."

The young woman's eyebrows shot up into her hair. "Your Highness, what did you say?" she sputtered.

Robbie repeated himself obliviously. "I want to buy some tits for Uncle Hans. He said that he wanted to eat Mommy's tits, but she wouldn't let him."

The adults gaped incredulously at the little boy. Before they could react to his outlandish statements, Robbie continued, "Did you know that Uncle Hans has ice magic too?"

"He does?" Isabella gasped.

The six year-old nodded vigorously. "When Mommy was sleeping, Uncle Hans took off her dress. Then he went over to her face and peed a bunch of snow! Mommy never found out, and Uncle Hans doesn't know I saw him!" Robbie giggled. "Uncle Hans is so funny!"

The adults didn't know whether to burst out laughing or faint in horror. King Hans of the Southern Isles was the most lecherous man in all of Europe. Despite the earth-shattering transfiguration he had undergone twelve years ago, he would forever be an unrepentant Casanova. But they were certainly not supposed to have knowledge of such sensitive information. As much as they respected Elsa, they couldn't resist chuckling at her predicament.

Finally, Isabella found her voice again. "Prince Robert," she began gingerly. "Hans is a bit of what most people call a _pervert_. He likes Mommy a little too much."

Robbie's eyes went wide with innocent confusion. "But everybody in Arendelle likes Mommy. Does that mean we are all pre-verts?"

"Never mind. Forget what I said. Just… just try to ignore the stuff that Hans says." She reached down to lay a chocolate truffle in the palm of his hand, and tousled the little boy's hair affectionately. "Oh, and by the way, Mommy doesn't really like sausages. Uncle Hans was only kidding."

"Okay!" Robert paid for his purchase, and gave her a cheery wave before skipping out the door. "I think I'll buy Mommy a chess set!"

* * *

_Two years later…_

"Life doesn't get any better than this." Twelve year-old Jon sighed contentedly as he leaned back to gaze at the stars. By his side, a campfire slowly died down. It had been a long day packed with bustle and activity. He spent the morning with tutors who fed him a version of history he never knew, enriching his mind with fresh perspectives and unfamiliar facts. Then he challenged the Duke in a fierce battle of chess. The afternoon was spent entertaining a throng of little children with his icy magic, and playing ball with several boys his age. Now the sun had set, and Jon loved to camp out in the courtyard with his new friends.

His past life in Arendelle had become a distant recollection that was rapidly fading in time. Only when he strained his memory could he still conjure up hazy images from the world he left behind. But he thought nothing of it. Those images must have come from children's fairy tales he'd seen in the past.

Little did the boy know that he had ingested one drop of a very peculiar Memory Potion at every meal for the past two years. And little did he know that his perceptions of reality had become more than a little distorted.

As the final sparks of the campfire died down, and the air became thick with the melodious chirping of insects, Jon could keep his eyes open no longer. Full of good food, well entertained, and completely happy, Jon dozed off with a smile on his face.

_He was walking through the gardens. The air was crisp and clean, the skies tranquil, and the full moon radiant on the pond's surface. _

"_Jon," a soft, gentle voice sounded in the distance. "Where are you, Jon?"_

"_Huh?" Jon mumbled. "Who's there?"_

_From within the dark green shadows, a woman slowly emerged. "Come to me, my child. I've missed you so much."_

"_How can you miss me when you don't even know me?" The twelve year-old inquired in complete and utter confusion._

_The woman came closer. She knelt down to his level and held out her arms. "Come home, Jon. For over two years I've hoped and prayed, waiting for this day to come."_

_Jon could only stare at the strange apparition. __The silvery streaks of moonlight cast a shadowy gradient across the woman's face, highlighting her features and accentuating her ethereal beauty. Her platinum blonde tresses flowed elegantly over her shoulders, and her icy blue dress sparkled like diamonds. This woman could only be an angel. No human could come close to her transcendent beauty. She was an aesthetic masterpiece straight from heaven, which no work of art or product of nature could dare rival. There was strength and regality in her stance, but she exuded a shimmering aura of innocence that further enhanced her angelic vibe. Jon couldn't contain the awestruck gasp that escaped his lips. _

_But it was her eyes that truly captivated him. Tears glistened in those bright blue orbs that were of the deepest and purest cerulean hue. She gazed sadly and longingly into his eyes with such intensity, staring straight into his soul. The power of her gaze was intimidating. But her eyes were also full of compassion and tenderness, as if she would weep any moment. _

"_Who are you?" Jon managed to croak._

_The woman avoided his question. "I love you, my precious snowflake," she whispered. "No matter where you are or what you've done, you will always have a home right here." She laid a hand over her heart._

"_But, but… I already have a home." Jon stammered irresolutely. A sudden, inexplicable gust of fear suddenly overtook his senses. "Go away! You're crazy! I have no idea who you are or what you want." Without thinking, he blasted an icy wall into existence. "Shoo! Back off!" _

"_As you wish," the woman dabbed at her teary eyes and turned away. As she was slowly fading into the mists, she turned back around one last time. "I will be waiting for you on the other side. Always remember that."_

As Jon continued to sleep peacefully, his lips involuntarily parted to utter a sound he had neither heard nor spoken in over two years. A vestige of his forgotten past, imprisoned deep within the recesses of his subconscious, that had all but completely melted away.

"Mother."

It was an alien concept, but the word was strangely pleasing to the ear.

**Yup! Elsa is kind of a Hitler figure to the people of Weselton. Or at least to the poor and uneducated :)**


	25. Memories and Magic

**The line "crap rainbows and unicorns" was a reference to one of Hans' jokes from Chapter 13, in case anyone needs a refresher!**

**Anyways, Jon's suspicions will continue to grow. He has been in Weselton for two years now. **

**Chapter 25:**

Eight year-old Robert pouted and stamped his feet angrily. "But Mommy, I want to go!" he whined. "Why can't I go ice-harvesting with Uncle Kristoff?"

The Snow Queen felt her heart break. The poor child had lost his father and brother. Right now, the last thing he needed was someone asserting control and restricting his autonomy, when he was already at his most vulnerable. But just thinking of Fredrik made her remember what had happened the last time she said yes to him. "Robbie, ice-harvesting is very hard and dangerous."

"But I want to go!" Robbie's tone became louder and more assertive as he continued stomping around.

"Why don't we go read a story or play a game?" Elsa suggested. "Or we could build a snowman?"

Robbie shook his head vigorously. "No! I'm gonna go ice-harvesting, and that's final. You can't keep bossing me around like that." The stubbornness in his voice was so reminiscent of young Anna.

Elsa spoke pleadingly. "Robbie, please be reasonable. We lost Jon two years ago, and before that we lost Daddy. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you. Please… just listen to me. Ice-harvesting is not a game."

"It's not fair!" Robbie continued to argue. "You won't let me do anything fun, just because you're so scared that bad things will happen!"

"How about I come with you?" Elsa attempted to compromise. "We can sit on the side and watch. It will be just as fun."

"But I want to do it too!" Robbie whined. "I want to step onto the lake and cut a big block of ice myself! I know how to do it! I've seen Uncle Kristoff do it a bajillion times!"

"Robbie, I'm sorry but it's far too dangerous. Maybe we could try when you're a little older." Elsa gently insisted.

"It's not hard!" The child protested. "All you have to do is swing the big knife thing into the ice. Then you pick it up. It's easy!"

"It only looks easy because Uncle Kristoff has a lifetime of experience. But you've never done it before. The ice is very thick and heavy, and it's really hard to cut through. A lot of people sprain their back or shoulders. The ice you stand on also becomes brittle, and you could fall into the lake."

"If I fall into the lake, they can just pull me out."

"Robbie, no." Elsa continued to assert firmly but gently. "We can stand on the side and watch, but that's it. You could freeze to death within seconds if you fell into the lake."

"No you can't!" Robbie insisted. "You're just saying that because you don't want me to go."

Elsa's patience was wearing thin. "Robert, you aren't being reasonable. If you keep acting like this, I can't let you go at all."

"It's not fair!" Robbie screamed, his face red and scrunched up with anger. "You're mean!"

"Robert, go to your room." Elsa ordered firmly. "Now."

"You're mean! I hate you!" He stomped on his mother's foot as hard as he could.

Elsa's winced in pain as she furiously massaged the bruise that was beginning to form. "Do you need a spanking, young man?"

Tears of anger and indignation streamed down the boy's cheeks. "You mean the same way Jon needed a spanking?" He retaliated cruelly.

Elsa felt her heart shatter at those words. "Robbie, wait, I didn't mean—"

Too late. The eight year-old was already running out the door with his face buried in both hands.

* * *

Robert stomped angrily into the stables, where Kristoff was munching on a carrot. "I'm coming with you!" His voice betrayed that he had been screaming and crying very recently.

Kristoff raised his eyebrows. "Didn't Mommy say she was coming too?"

The boy shook his head. "No, she changed her mind. She said I can go by myself," he lied.

The youngest prince of Arendelle had never been a convincing liar. Besides, Kristoff knew that Elsa would never have agreed to such an arrangement. "Robbie, what did Mommy really say?"

Robert sighed. He knew he had been foiled. "Mommy said we could go," he admitted. "But she said I could only stand on the side and watch. She wouldn't let me do it. Then I got mad. I wish Mommy would go away… she's so mean and bossy."

"Robbie, don't talk like that," Kristoff scolded. "Your mother is only trying to protect you. Ice-harvesting _is_ very dangerous. In fact, you have to be at least thirteen years old and weigh a hundred pounds, to become an apprentice. It's too easy for younger kids to get hurt."

"But it looks so easy…" Robbie's tone became less forceful and argumentative. Now he was speaking not to an overprotective mother, but to a true expert on the subject.

Kristoff smiled and ducked back into the stable. He fumbled about for a few seconds, before emerging with an armful of equipment. "Here, try holding this." He held out a strange-looking metal contraption in one hand.

With eyes shining, Robbie seized the handles and tried to swing it over his head. The device was much heavier than it looked. He couldn't even lift it an inch, as he began toppling forward. Kristoff quickly steadied him and effortlessly grabbed the steely apparatus.

"You see Robbie, it's a lot harder than it looks. This thing weighs about forty pounds. Cutting ice is not like cutting a slice of cake. I promise that when you're a little older, I'll show you how to do it."

"I guess you're right…" Robbie mumbled. A wave of guilt washed over him, as he recalled his earlier behavior. "I'm sorry I told Mommy that I hate her."

Kristoff knelt to the boy's level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should tell that to Mommy, instead of me. Go on, now." As Robbie turned to leave, Kristoff gave him some final words. "You're lucky to have a mother who cares so much about you."

* * *

Jon narrowed his eyes and leaned in for a better look, as he crept along row after row of books in the library. For the seventh consecutive night, that strange woman had appeared in his dreams. There was an eerie sense of familiarity about her. From her face and clothes, to her voice and mannerisms.

The twelve year-old was absolutely certain that he had seen this mysterious woman before. But where? He racked his brains, but came up empty.

Perhaps he had seen her face in some newspaper lying around. Or perhaps it was one of the books his tutor had assigned? Maybe she was a character in one of the children's books or fairy tales he'd read in the past? The boy steadied the icy blue light in his palms as he knelt down to pull a few books from the shelf.

_The French Revolution… The Protestant Reformation… The Enlightenment… The Age of Exploration… John Locke… Thomas Hobbes… _Jon scanned over the neat row of books. Nope. None of these seemed to ring a bell.

Jon sighed with frustration. Why couldn't he remember where he'd seen her before? Nothing was more aggravating than a wisp of memory that tauntingly danced just barely beyond the scope of recollection. That mysterious woman had haunted him for long enough, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

A strip of moonlight illuminated a desk on the other side of the room. This was where his tutor usually gave him history lessons. Books and papers were still strewn across the tabletop. Temporarily distracted, Jon tread softly across the thick carpet and picked up a random book. He thumbed nonchalantly through the yellowed pages. Until a bolded headline and a black-and-white illustration caught his eye.

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle._ Jon gritted his teeth with disgust. According to all his tutors and everyone he'd ever spoken to, that wicked witch had single-handedly destroyed their peaceful nation. She was a masterful schemer, and unparalleled in her vast ability to deceive and manipulate. No matter how outlandish her lies and how nefarious her intentions, she could always steer anyone into believing whatever she wanted them to.

Because of Elsa Frostberg and the lies that she spoke, Weselton lost every single one of its trade partners and military allies. In the past fifteen years, crime and poverty had increased, literacy had plummeted, and infant mortality had tripled. A few years ago, Weselton suffered through a devastating famine. Other kingdoms had prepared to send them aid. But through the clever use of propaganda, the witch managed to dissuade them all. Forty percent of the kingdom's children starved to death that year.

Jon continued leafing through hundreds of pages of text, describing in vivid detail all the terrible things she had ever done. His tutors had never failed to emphasize how cruel and heartless the witch was. In fact, Jon could hardly go outside without hearing people wishing death upon the wicked Snow Queen. But something didn't feel quite right.

"She doesn't look evil," Jon thought aloud, as he stared at a portrait of Elsa at her coronation. "She looks like a nice person, actually."

Jon was so immersed in his reading, he paid no heed as a door creaked open and soft footsteps padded across the carpet. Moments later, a scrawny hand landed on his shoulder.

The boy jumped in surprise. Staring him in the eye was a rather flustered and disgruntled Duke.

"Sleepwalking?" The gray-haired man asked with a hint of sarcasm. Before Jon could respond, he reached over Jon's shoulder to flip through the book he had been reading.

"Amusing woman, isn't she?"

Jon looked up at him. "Queen Elsa did a lot of bad things, didn't she?"

The Duke nodded emphatically. "Indeed she has. The witch could cure smallpox and polio and end slavery in the British Empire, but even that wouldn't be enough to save her. Perhaps Saint Peter would at least apologize before throwing her putrid, rotting soul into Hell for all eternity."

Then the Duke raised his eyebrows and stared quizzically at Jon. "What are you doing here?"

Jon shrugged. "I couldn't sleep, for some reason." He was twelve years old, far too old to be kept awake by something so silly. The boy wasn't about to admit he was having nightmares.

"Fair enough. But why so curious about her? Haven't your tutors told you everything there is to know about the witch?"

Jon nodded. "Yeah, I've learned all about the Snow Queen… but it does kind of amaze me how someone who looks so innocent could do so many terrible things." He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my boy," the Duke chuckled. "Now, why don't I go fetch you a glass of milk? It will help you sleep."

The Duke slithered into the kitchen to pour Jon a glass of cold milk. Then he glanced left and right, revealing that he was indeed all alone. Snickering to himself, he pulled a half-empty glass vial from his pocket, and let a steady stream of trickle into the thick white liquid.

The conniving little weasel stopped to admire his handiwork. "Perfect," he whispered to himself. "This ought to wipe out every last wisp of memory the boy may have about his witch of a mother. We can't have him asking questions or snooping around, can we?"

Jon drained the glass of milk without another thought, and slept peacefully through the night. Never again did the strange woman appear in his dreams. Before long, she had completely vanished into the sands of time.

**Will Jon ever regain his memories of the past? Will he ever learn the truth? Stay tuned!**


	26. Dreams and Visions

**So sorry about the late update! I was out of town for a little family vacation the past 5 days. Thank you for sticking with me! I promise that future updates will be faster :)**

**In other news, FROZEN FEVER! **

**Please answer:**** Who has better parenting skills? Elsa or Fredrik?**

**Chapter 26:**

_One year later…_

Winter in Weselton was brutal in the year Jon turned thirteen. Even through the month of April, frigid temperatures continued to interrupt commercial activity and debilitate the citizens who were completely unprepared for such an onslaught. Billions of tons of snow pounded mercilessly against the embattled land, with an almost palpable ferocity. In a typical winter season, the nation would tally roughly two dozen deaths and lose five percent of their agricultural output. But losses were astronomically higher this time.

Everyone in Weselton was absolutely miserable. Except for one man.

The Duke knew just how to manipulate the situation to his advantage. "The wicked Snow Queen has cursed this land!" He howled furiously as he rode through the streets bundled up in five layers of heavy coats. "Snow in April? Who'd ever heard of such an absurdity? Don't you see? That witch will stop at nothing to destroy us all!"

People stood hunched over, shivering violently and massaging the hideous patches of frostbite that marred their skin. As the Duke continued his tirade, feeble shouts of "Death to the witch!" rang through every village and marketplace.

The cold didn't bother Jon, but the pain and devastation that ubiquitously surrounded him was difficult to watch. As gust after gust of icy wind tore through the air and smashed open boarded-up windows, the thirteen year-old wondered if his unique powers could come in handy.

Jon tentatively ungloved one hand and reached skyward. He focused his senses and mentally commanded the snow to recede. A stream of snowflakes swirled gracefully through the air and spiraled in his direction, ultimately vanishing into the boy's fingertips. A rush of excitement flooded through his veins. Perhaps he could stop this dreadful winter!

Jon raced through the streets, finding the Duke in the middle of a rousing speech. "Do not fret, good people of Weselton! We have weathered far greater storms in our past. Let's remember that we have with us another one who has power over ice and snow. But this one will use his powers for good, and not evil! He has been raised to care about his fellow man, not to subjugate them. With our dear Jon leading the way, we shall overcome! One day, our champion will rise up and destroy that wicked witch once and for all!" The people began screaming with rabid fervor, in spite of their weakened conditions.

"Long live the Duke!"

"Kill the witch!"

"Death to the wicked sorceress!"

"God bless Weselton!"

Jon pushed his way through the crowd and took a hasty bow. The young prince was now a few inches taller than the Duke, but he still treated the older man with tremendous respect and reverence. "Sir," he panted. "May I—"

The diminutive man chuckled and patted Jon on the back. "Well, speak of the Devil."

Jon got straight to the point. "I believe I can use my powers to help end this winter. Look at this." To prove his point, Jon held out a hand and absorbed a steady stream of snowfall into his palm. The crowd gasped in astonishment and buzzed with excitement. People eagerly crowded forward to watch.

The Duke puffed out his chest and spoke haughtily. "Yes! My dear boy, you are a miracle!" He clasped his hands together and beamed at Jon. "Come! No time to waste!" He ushered Jon into the carriage and made a beeline for the castle. "Out of my way, out of my way! Make way for our hero!"

Jon chuckled awkwardly. "Save it for later," he attempted to diffuse the fanfare. "I haven't actually done anything yet."

The Duke led Jon to the highest tower in the castle. Standing on the balcony, he had a view of the entire kingdom. On a sunny day, the visibility extended for nearly a hundred miles. But right now all he saw was an endless field of monochromatic white.

Jon held out both hands and took a deep breath. "Love will thaw," he murmured to himself. The boy had no idea where he had heard those words before, but they sounded good. Instinctively, they seemed to make sense. Jon focused his mind on the compassion he felt towards all his poor countrymen, who were helpless victims of the Snow Queen's cruelty. Only he could do something to ease their pain. Only he could rise up someday and free the land from her tyranny.

The snow lifted from the frozen ground upon command, and spiraled through the air towards the blonde-haired boy stationed atop the tower. The skies grew clearer, the wind slowed down, and the air began to warm. Rooftops and chimneys began to emerge from beneath massive mountains of snow. People cheered wildly as they watched, whooping and screaming with delight. Emboldened by their support, Jon couldn't help but smile. _This is the life I was born to live. This is my mission, my destiny. To deliver my people from that evil witch._

But he soon became fatigued. With every passing second, it took more effort and concentration to maintain his pace. Before long, Jon could no longer absorb another snowflake into his palms. He had exercised his powers to its maximum capacity, and now they had become oversaturated.

A substantial volume of snow and ice had been removed, and the cold had been reduced to a tolerable threshold. But the kingdom was still very much frozen. The boy sighed dejectedly. "The witch is far too powerful. This is the best I can do." Jon shook his head in disappointment. He had failed his people.

The Duke squeezed his hand comfortingly. "Don't worry, my boy. We've still made some wonderful progress. You are young still. One day, your powers will become strong enough to defeat that evil sorceress. But your true strength is right here." The Duke laid a heavily-gloved hand over Jon's heart. "My dear Jon, you have the heart of a lion. Surely you are destined for great things."

* * *

Elsa smiled as she slept, dreaming of a fond memory buried deep in her past.

_*** Dream *** _

Three-and-a-half year-old Elsa hummed and whistled as she danced down the hall towards her father's study. "Kai?" she asked in a soft, imploring tone. "Where is Daddy?"

A much younger Kai smiled affectionately at the little princess. "Daddy is meeting with King Harald of the Northern Isles in the throne room right now."

Elsa sucked her thumb. "What are they doing at the meeting?"

Kai reached out a hand to stroke her soft blonde locks. "Boring grown-up things that you don't have to worry about until you're much older."

Elsa laid her head on his knee. "Did they bring any kids for me to play with?"

Kai smiled. The little princess was too adorable to be real. "Harald brought both of his sons. But they're a lot older than you, snowflake. Prince Thomas is nineteen, and Prince Fredrik is sixteen."

Elsa bounced up and down with excitement. "Yay! Can I go play with them?"

"Thomas is also at the meeting. Fredrik is in his room right now. He seemed really unhappy about being dragged along on this trip, and has been sulking for the past two hours. Maybe it's best you leave him alone."

"Aww," the toddler cooed. "Nobody should be unhappy. Can I go cheer Fredrik up?"

Kai shrugged. "It can't hurt to try." Before he could finish, Elsa was already out the door.

Elsa peeked into an half-closed door in the guest wing of the castle. A tall, well-built young man sat on the bed, scowling as he stared at the floor. The little girl caught snippets of his mumbling. "Stupid meeting… Don't want to be here… miss the hockey game over this bullshit…"

"Hello!" the toddler called out in a bright, cheery voice. "My name is Elsa. I'm three and a half years old. That's this much!" She held out three fingers and partially raised a fourth.

Fredrik appeared slightly flustered at her sudden appearance. "Well, nice to meet you, Elsa," he said plainly.

"Do you want to be my friend?" Elsa asked eagerly. "I don't have any friends at home. But Mommy said I'll have a little brother or sister soon, and we're gonna be best friends!"

Fredrik gritted his teeth, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Um... sure?"

"Yay!" Elsa cheered. The toddler raced out the door, her tiny feet pattering against the polished wooden floor. She swung by the castle nursery, and gathered up an armful of stuffed animals and a little plastic tea party set. Then she ran back. "Let's play tea party!" she announced proudly.

Fredrik's eyebrows shot up into his hair, and his cheeks flushed. "Tea party?" he sputtered. "But … I'm too old to play tea party."

Elsa giggled. "Don't be silly! Everybody loves tea parties!" With a little half-smile and a shrug of resignation, Fredrik scooted onto the floor besides her. The three year-old began setting up the toys.

It was December in Arendelle, and snow was pounding relentlessly against the windows. The cold air permeated the castle interior as well. Fredrik pulled his knees to his chest and let out a slight shiver.

Elsa was a sharp toddler. "Are you cold?" she asked softly.

Fredrik maintained a tough, impenetrable façade. "No, I'm okay." He couldn't believe he was having this interaction with a three year-old.

"Here you go!" The little girl babbled happily. She threw a little pink-and-blue blankie over his shoulders. "All better!"

Fredrik looked down at the blanket draped over his body. "Um, thanks."

Elsa began setting up the tea party and introducing her stuffed animals one by one. "This is Fluffy the Cat. And Poochie the Dog. And Ducky the Duck. And Hippy the Hippo. And Boo-Boo the Monkey."

Fredrik chuckled and awkwardly patted the lime-green and purple monkey on the head. "That's very nice."

"But Chocolate the Bunny is my most favorite." Elsa reported proudly. She picked up the pink fluffy rabbit and gently nudged Fredrik with its nose. "Hi Fredrik, my name is Chocolate the Bunny! I like you! Do you want to be my friend?"

Elsa suddenly hopped to her feet, sending the plastic teacup in her lap clattering to the floor. "I have an idea! Let's go get some chocolate!" She grabbed his hand and raced for the door.

"Whoa, slow down!" Fredrik hastily bent his six-foot frame and followed at a painfully lopsided and ungainly pace. He tried to wiggle his fingers free from her grasp, to no avail.

"Here we are!" Elsa skidded to a halt in the kitchen. "The chocolate is up there." She pointed at the highest shelf.

Fredrik quickly scanned over the kitchen and dining area. "Is there a ladder or chair we could use?"

Elsa held out her arms and bounced up and down. "Pick me up!"

Fredrik placed both hands firmly under her armpits and lifted the toddler high into the air. His grip was steady and strong.

"Yay!" the three year-old cheered as she held a box of chocolate truffles triumphantly over her head. "Let's go!" As Elsa began sprinting back to the room where their tea party awaited, she slipped and fell face-down on the marble floor.

"Owie!" The little girl slumped over and began to cry.

Fredrik hurriedly knelt down by her side. "What happened?"

Elsa sniffed. "I got an owie!" Blood was seeping from a cut on her knee.

The teenager quickly sized up the situation. "Let's go see Gerda. She'll take care of it." Fredrik took Elsa by the hand, and patiently walked her to see the young princess' nursemaid.

_End of dream.  
_

* * *

"We really go way back, don't we?" A familiar voice sounded in the darkness. "You've grown so much, but I can still see that sweet, adorable little girl you were the first time we met."

Elsa bolted upright and whirled about in confusion. "What was that? Who's there?"

The voice chuckled. "Elsa, it's me!"

As her eyes began adjusting to the dark, Elsa could discern a tall, muscular man standing at the far end of her room. "Fredrik?" she gasped incredulously. "Is it really you?"

Fredrik smiled knowingly. "You tell me."

Tears sprang from her eyes as Elsa leapt out of bed and flung herself at him, with arms outstretched. But her heart sank as Fredrik pulled back. "I don't understand…" she sputtered weakly.

Fredrik kept his distance. "Elsa, listen to me. I am only an apparition. If you touch me, you will wake up and I will disappear."

"I don't blame you." Elsa closed her eyes and let the tears fall. "After what I've done to this family, I don't blame you if you never want to see me again."

"Elsa, that's enough. If you keep talking like that, I really am going to leave. I have nothing in common with melodramatic crybabies who sit around drowning in self-pity."

"No!" Elsa fell to her knees. "Please, don't leave me! What do I have to do to make you stay?"

Fredrik said nothing for a minute. "You must find our son again."

"But it's too late. Jon died three years ago… because of me."

"No, Elsa. Jon is still alive. Alive, but lost. Our son is lost in more ways than one. It is up to you to bring him back and make our family whole again."

Elsa gasped incredulously. "Alive? Where is he? Is my baby okay?"

"That's up to you to find out." The deceased King of Arendelle cracked a smile. "And when you find Jon, give him a beating he'll never forget. Shred that ass into hamburger."

Elsa grimaced. "Fredrik, don't talk like that! Violence is never the answer to a disagreement." The blonde lowered her head despondently. "I learned the hard way."

"No, Jon learned the hard way that you have limits." Fredrik corrected. "If you beat a dog, it will bite back once it's had enough."

"But I promised Jon I would never hit him." Elsa whispered regretfully.

"And Jon promised he would behave himself. So I guess you're even." Fredrik dropped his acerbic tone and spoke earnestly. "The point is, when someone behaves badly and absolutely cannot be reasoned with, then force becomes the only solution. You and I, of all people, ought to understand that after all our political transactions. Jon thought he could keep pushing you, and you respectfully disproved his theory."

"Fredrik! Jon is our son, not some criminal or scumbag politician like that Duke of Weselton!" Elsa sighed. "I just don't think threats and intimidation is the proper way of teaching a lesson. I still can't believe you hit Jon like that in the candy store five years ago."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but Jon hasn't shoplifted ever since I demolished his ass that day." Fredrik's tone was stern and unyielding.

"_Demolishing his ass_ is torture, not discipline. Wouldn't you be worried that this kind of punishment might create resentment in the long run?"

"So be it. Someone has to be the villain. Leadership over likeability. Are you willing to do what needs to be done, even if it means being perceived as a bully? Are you willing to prioritize the long-term goal ahead of feelings and emotions? Leadership is about pushing others to do their best, even if they wind up resenting you. It's not about making people feel warm and fuzzy, or trying to establish some degree of camaraderie. If someone can't handle being called out when they act badly, that's their problem."

Elsa found herself at a loss for words. She loved Fredrik so deeply, but the issue of discipline had always been hotly contested between the two royals. Her husband didn't seem to understand that beating a misbehaving child only reinforced his urge to misbehave. On the contrary, Fredrik would often accuse her of being soft. She couldn't deny the efficacy of his methods, but there had to be a less hurtful way of achieving the same goal.

But there was something else Fredrik had said that she found far more intriguing, yet disturbing. "Jon is alive? Isn't there more you can tell me? Is he getting enough to eat? Does he have a place to sleep at night? Is he feeling lonely or scared? What if our baby is hurt? Oh Fredrik, please tell me! How can I find him?" Tears poured down her cheeks as dozens of terrifying scenarios flashed through her mind.

Fredrik shook his head slowly and sadly. "I'm afraid I can't answer that," he whispered. "But I will tell you this. When you find Jon, he will be broken, wounded, and confused. It will take a lot of love and healing to bring back our son."

"But I know you can do it, Elsa. After all, it is what you do best."

**So… who has better parenting skills? Text 1 for Elsa, and 2 for Fredrik. Enter now for a chance to win a free trip to Disneyland! Tickets are limited! Vote now!**


	27. Family Picnic

**This will be the last chapter before Jon is reunited with his family! I think it's time we get to the big reunion. Unfortunately, things won't be smooth!**

**Thank you everyone for your feedback! It's a close call, but I guess Elsa wins the parenting battle. I would like to also thank my guest reviewers: ****sleepy****, ****Guest,****ifeelmad**** and ****Erm****.**

**Chapter 27:**

_Three years later…_

Twelve year-old Robert trudged through the wet grass of the morning, up the hill towards a very special somewhere that day. A picnic basket dangled from his hand. It was far too early for anyone to be awake, and the kingdom was still devoid of activity. The young prince had woken at the break of dawn to complete a very important mission. One that would give him the closure and completion he had long sought after.

On the top of a hill, a large stony grave marker came into view. Robert picked up his pace, as he sighted the engraved words and images on the cold gray surface. Finally, nothing stood between him and his destination. The boy lowered his head, breathed a silent prayer, and spoke.

"Hello, Jon." Robert whispered softly. He blinked back tears through his smile. "Six whole years today."

"I don't know if you can hear me… but I miss you. I don't know why you didn't want to see me anymore, and I'm sorry if it was something I did. But I will never stop loving you. You taught me so much about the world. And even though you're gone, you've had a bigger impact on my life than anyone, except for maybe Mama and Papa. I guess that makes you sort of alive still. I mean… well, I'm not making any sense, but you know..."

"Mama's taking this really hard. These past few years, she keeps insisting that Papa's ghost visited her at night, saying you were still alive. We keep telling her that it was only a dream, but she won't listen. She writes hundreds of letters every week to other kingdoms, asking if they've seen you. Everyone thinks she's gone crazy. Some people even think she needs to step down from the throne, since she's completely lost her mind. Which brings me to another point…"

"I'm not ready to be King of Arendelle. That was the life you were meant to live, but not me. I was always just the spare. I'm no good at my studies, and I'll never be as smart as you were. But I'm trying… I really am. I hope I can do a good job."

Robbie had grown into a very handsome lad over the years. He had his father's eyes and hair, and his mother's smile, but still retained the face of his childhood. His naïve, whimsical personality was eerily reminiscent of his Aunt. The boy slowly opened the basket and set a large bowl, covered with foil, at the foot of the gravestone. "Look, Jon. It's your favorite! My favorite, too. Chocolate-covered strawberries! I asked Gerda to make them; I told her I was going on a picnic, and so I did!"

Robert removed six paper plates from the basket, and divided them evenly. "This is for you, and this one's for me. And the rest are for Daddy, Sven, Grandma and Grandpa." He bit ravenously through the shell and chewed slowly, trying to imagine that they were three and seven years old again, raiding the kitchen for sweets.

As he continued to eat, the young prince began speaking aloud in a much more animated tone, reenacting scenes from their shared childhood. "Jon and Robert have made it down the stairs. They're almost at the kitchen. Just a little more, and—Oh no, enemy in sight! Kai has been spotted at five-o-clock position!" Robert flung his hands up and gasped dramatically.

Then he switched back to his announcer tone. "Jon creates a living mouse out of snow. Kai chases the mouse all over the place, whacking with a broom. _Hiyah! Die, you stupid mouse!_ Now Jon and Robert are able to sneak into the kitchen. There, sitting on the bottom shelf of the pantry, is a mountain of the most delicious chocolate truffles in the whole kingdom!"

Robert popped another chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth. "Kai knocks over every suit of armor in the entire castle, trying to kill the mouse. Daddy gets super pissed at Kai. Uncle Kristoff tells Daddy to calm down. Meanwhile, the kids are stuffing their faces with chocolate!"

"Thirty minutes later, Kai _finally_ realizes that the mouse is fake. But it's too late! Every last bit of chocolate is gone. Jon and Robert are victorious!"

The boy was smiling from ear to ear as he completed his little reenactment. But the silence around him soon became painful. Aside from the soft, dispassionate chirps of unseen insects, not a sound was heard. Robert sighed melancholically. "I wish you were here, Jon. What's the point of having all these happy memories, if you have no one to share them with?"

Robert reached for his plate once again, but came up with nothing but air. The tears began cascading down his cheeks as he remembered the day he lost his brother. Jon had become quite unpopular in the final two years of his life, and many were indifferent towards his death. "Sometimes I still hear people saying mean things about you. It made me really mad at first. But then I realized that they only talk like that because they don't know you the way I do. We didn't always get along, and sometimes I felt hurt or confused by the things you did. But you're my big brother and my hero. And most importantly, you're my best friend."

A soft chattering in the distance had the boy turning his head. Coming up the hill were hordes of citizens, donned in black garments and sporting bouquets of white roses in their hands. Robert knew why they were here, and he did not wish to join them. He had come to pay respect to his dear brother, not the deceased Crown Prince of Arendelle.

The twelve year-old took a hasty bow and turned to descend the hill. "Good bye, Jon. I love you."

* * *

On the other side of the fjord, sixteen year-old Jon was sauntering through the halls of Weselton castle. Ever since he had used his icy powers to mitigate that catastrophic April blizzard, he had enjoyed all the perks of being the hometown hero. He could hardly walk through the village without being swarmed by hordes of screaming sycophants. Girls swooned over him endlessly in the most corny and ingratiating fashions. Jon appreciated the attention, but still maintained a level head and was careful not to get swept away by the hype.

Now sixteen, Jon was now a lean, wiry young man with the same light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes he'd always had. The towheaded youth had sprouted like a weed over the past few years. He had lost the chubby cheeks and wide-eyed innocence of childhood, and now stood six feet tall. Beneath his suave exterior and charming looks was a man of substance and depth. The Duke had groomed him to be his heir, and Jon eagerly absorbed everything. He had mastered academic lessons far beyond what was typical of students his age. He was skilled in the art of rhetoric, and his decision-making was impeccable. The young man was also undefeated at chess, although he wasn't quite sure when and where he had learned the game.

At the moment, Jon was enjoying a quiet moment in his own company. Away from the fanfare and adulation, and away from all the burdens of being a teenage superstar. He folded both hands behind his back and whistled as he strolled nonchalantly down the portrait gallery. His eyes swept unseeingly over the hundreds of almost indistinguishable paintings.

But a glimmer of blue on a far wall suddenly caught his eye. There, situated near the doorframe, the woman everyone feared and hated. A fresco painting of Queen Elsa of Arendelle, her features twisted in a demonic grin as she stood atop a pile of dead bodies. Upon closer inspection, most of the dead bodies belonged to children. Their eyes had been gouged out and their entrails were spilling out of huge, gaping holes in their bellies.

Jon felt a shiver run up his spine as his eyes drifted north, where the witch wielded a bloodstained icicle high above her head. The Snow Queen also sported a cut on her own arm. But out of the wounded flesh their flowed no blood, but instead a thick, vomitous black sludge that not even Satan himself would dare to touch.

But most chilling of all were her eyes. Those blue eyes were so cold and empty and devoid of all human interaction. Two bottomless pits of death and destruction. So powerful and pervasive was her evil, it was said that anyone who looked into the witch's eyes would instantly turn into ice. Jon shuddered and averted his gaze.

But he could feel a coldness searing his insides. An invisible icicle stabbing into his flesh. Something powerful yet intangible was compelling him to look back. Jon could not suppress the urge to look back. When he locked eyes with the painting, she glared straight into his soul.

"Okay, to hell with you!" Jon spat. He thrust both hands forward, meaning to shield the painting behind an icy wall. But not a single snowflake emanated from his fingertips. Jon growled in frustration and blasted ice in all directions. But no matter how hard he tried, he was utterly powerless to cover up that wicked painting.

"You evil bastard! I'm not afraid of you!" Jon shouted furiously. He fired a vicious blast of icicles, wanting to obliterate that image of pure evil. But as if an invisible barrier were in place, the ice would instantly evaporate as it came within an inch of the painting.

Jon had enough of this nonsense. How could this mere painting exert so much control over him? How could he ever deliver Weselton from the wicked Snow Queen, if the mere image of her made him lose his marbles?

With great conviction, Jon unsheathed a ceremonial sword lying in a glass case. The sword hadn't seen combat in centuries, and was a treasured historical artifact. Hundreds of years ago, it had won Weselton its independence. Countless tyrants and traitors had perished beneath its steely edge. Today, this sword would once again slay an enemy of Weselton.

He gripped the jeweled handle tightly in his sweaty palms as he approached the painting once more. "Witch," he spat viciously. "Today, we fight to the death." Jon leaned forward and thrust the sword through the heart of the painting. But that wasn't enough. He had not destroyed its most evil and potent constituent. Jon drew back the sword, and slashed it neatly across the witch's eyes. Never again would they haunt him.

Or so he thought. Jon would fall ill for the next several weeks, suffering from chronic fevers and chills. And for the first time in four years, he dreamed of that mysterious blonde woman in the icy blue dress. But this time, she was joined by a little boy with bright green eyes.

**More to come! Get ready for some action in the upcoming chapters!**


	28. Last Words

**The moment we have all been waiting for has finally arrived! Yes, Jon is going home!**

**WARNING: Angst, violence, and profanity. **

**Chapter 28:**

_Two years later…_

The Duke watched with a grin as Jon ducked, dodged, and rolled his way through an incredibly complicated obstacle course. With lightning reflexes and herculean speed and strength, the eighteen year-old leapt high into the air and thrust an icy sword through the heart of a paper mâché Elsa. _Perfect,_ he thought smugly. _The witch won't stand a chance._

Today was the big day. Their champion was ready. Weselton's homegrown hero had completed his training, and now he was ready to destroy the witch once and for all.

Jon fired a powerful blast of ice that smashed a house-sized boulder into little more than gravel and sand, eliciting awestruck gasps from everyone watching. Like a proud father, the Duke clapped him on the back.

"All right, champ. You're ready now." Then he raised his voice to address the crowd. "Today we embark on a mission that will change the course of history, rock the foundations of the earth, and drive the wretched curse of tyranny out of this land once and for all. Good people of Weselton, we shall not return until the witch's head is mounted on a pike!"

Jon was beaming ear to ear, basking in the adulation, as he followed the Duke to their ship. But deep down inside, fear and trepidation gnawed at his heart. This would be the biggest day of his life. What he did—or alternately, failed to do—in the next few days would echo in eternity. He could not let his people down.

The witch was powerful, but so was Jon. Most important of all, he had the power of truth and righteousness on his side. He had a cause to fight under. A legacy to maintain. Principles to uphold. Millions to protect. The witch had nothing but a cold heart and a vengeful spirit and a pathological obsession with hurting others. Surely she would be vanquished.

According to every fairy tale and children's story ever written, he would emerge victorious. So Jon and the Duke departed for Arendelle with high spirits.

* * *

Elsa was lying despondently on the sofa in the castle library, eating her way through an enormous barrel of chocolate. Her latest outpouring of letters and search parties to neighboring kingdoms had turned up empty-handed yet again, and she needed something to cheer herself up. Everyone thought she had gone crazy with grief, and everyone was utterly convinced that Jon was truly gone forever. But she couldn't give up.

A knock on the door interrupted her catatonic misery. Kai stood smiling in the doorway. But Elsa paid no heed. What could possibly cheer her up now?

"It is a miracle," he whispered hoarsely.

Elsa shrugged indifferently and rolled over, so her back was facing him. "Yeah, it's a miracle I haven't puked yet," she mumbled.

Kai came closer and knelt by her side. "No, Elsa. All this time, you've been right. We were wrong to doubt you." He took a deep breath and smiled through tears of elation. "Prince Jon is alive."

At these words, Elsa shot up off the couch and grabbed Kai by the collar, shaking him vigorously. "What? How do you know? Where is he? Are you sure?" she fired a rapid volley of barely intelligible questions.

Kai gasped for breath. "Your son has come home. He is down at the docks, waiting for you."

Before he could finish, Elsa was already on her feet and sprinting headlong out of the room and heading for the staircase, crashing into furniture and tripping over her own feet as she ran.

But none of that mattered. The rest of the world ceased to exist. All that mattered was that her baby was home. Eight years was a long time. A long time to wallow in grief and remorse. To seek answers where none could be found. To endlessly replay every last miniscule detail of every interaction she'd ever had with Jon—and agonize over all the things she _could have_ done instead to prevent this tragedy. To lie awake night after night, tormented by uncertainty.

Now those eight years were mercifully and miraculously over. No doubt Jon had suffered tremendously too during their time apart, and the transition back to a loving mother-and-son relationship would be a gradual process full of bumps and bruises. But together they would overcome the pain of the past. As one family.

As Elsa stumbled down the last few steps and out the castle gate towards the docks, she glimpsed a young man with light blond hair. His back was facing her and she could not see his face. But Elsa knew at once that this was the darling, precious little boy she had once held in her arms.

"Jon!" she screamed. Heturned around, and as they locked eyes, her heart melted. Her baby had grown into a magnificently handsome young man. When she last saw him, Jon had barely come up to her shoulder. Now he was almost as tall as Fredrik had been.

Without thinking, Elsa rushed forward and threw herself at Jon, throwing both arms around him. "Jon! Oh, my poor baby, I've missed you so much! You're alive! Come, let us—"

"Who the hell are you?"

He must have been in shock just as she was, and perhaps was unprepared for such an emotionally charged reunion. Elsa hastily disentangled her limbs from his and stepped back, giving him some space. But Jon continued to stare at her with cold, indifferent eyes. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock and he emitted a gasp of realization.

Elsa couldn't restrain herself for another moment. She rushed forward and pulled him into a hug once more, with tears of elation streaming down both cheeks. Until Jon shoved her back.

"You evil witch! Get your hands off of me!" Jon spat viciously.

"Jon… it's me, your mother…"

Jon merely stepped back and folded his arms. "I have no mother, witch!"

A flood of tears streamed forth from those bloodshot eyes that had been shining with hope and affection just seconds ago. Had she truly agonized and suffered eight years for a reconciliation that could never happen? Elsa fell to her knees. "Jon, I'm so sorry… I love you so much. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jon whipped his hand through the air and delivered a vicious slap across her cheek, sending Elsa crashing to the ground. "Don't lie to me, witch! You don't love anyone! I know what you've done. All the people you've killed, and all the lives you destroyed. I'm here to avenge my people." Jon grabbed both sides of her head and looked her straight in the eye. "Before the day is over, you will be nothing but a shitstain in the history books. Your reign of terror ends now, Snow Queen."

"Jon, what's going on here?" Elsa cried out desperately. "What are you talking about? What happened to you?"

From the shadows came a haughty little voice that Elsa wished she would never hear again. "Our dear Jon has been learning the truth, that's what." Strutting down the gangplank with head held high and boots clip-clopping in a most ostentatious rhythm, was the Duke of Weselton.

"You son of a bitch!" Elsa screamed furiously. "What have you done to him?" Instinctively, she lifted a hand to impale the Duke on an icicle, but quickly pulled back. The poor boy was already confused enough. Lashing out right now would only validate everything the Duke had told Jon about her.

"Language, Witchy." The Duke clicked his tongue condescendingly. "There could be children listening, you know? Well, I supposed corrupting a few young, innocent minds is nothing compared to sitting by as millions of innocent people starve. We lost every single one of our trade partners because of your deceit and manipulation, you know? Thanks to you, our people are hungry and we are decades behind in trade and technology. And then forty percent of our nation's children died in that terrible famine not long ago. It could have all been prevented if only you had the slightest glimmer of humanity… and hadn't blocked all our foreign aid."

"That is a lie, and you know it! Weselton is in trouble because of your incompetence and unprofessionalism! There were many kingdoms, Arendelle included, that offered to send aid during the Great Famine. But you were too much of a prideful prick to accept it!" Elsa shouted angrily.

"Oh yeah?" The Duke smirked. "What about that spring snowstorm that wiped out one-third of our agricultural output five years ago? Would've been even worse, if our dear Jon hadn't intervened. I suppose you weren't responsible for that?"

"Snow in April happens all the time! It's unusual, but not unheard of. You know perfectly well it had nothing to do with me!"

The Duke gave a loud, pretentious yawn. "I'm getting sleepy here, from listening to all these fairy tales." Then he directed his attention to Jon. "All right, champ. Shall we finish what we started?"

As Jon began approaching his mother with cold, ruthless eyes and an icicle clutched in his fist, the Duke shot Elsa a wink that Jon couldn't see. "You'd be surprised what you can do with a little bit of Memory Potion."

As Jon drew back his arm and prepared to strike, a frantic cry pierced the air. "Jon, stop!"

Tripping and stumbling down the castle staircase was none other than his dear brother.

* * *

"Robert, get out of here!" Elsa shouted. But the youngest prince of Arendelle would not comply.

_Robert?_ Jon thought quizzically. The name seemed vaguely familiar. Where had he heard it before? He racked his brains, but came up with nothing. This Robert had shaggy golden-blonde hair, emerald green eyes, and a clean-cut face. He had a medium build and was a few inches shorter than the witch. Jon guessed the boy to be fourteen. Old enough to have lost the chubby cheeks and wide-eyed innocence of childhood, but not yet old enough for testosterone to have made him a man. There was a very distinct ambiance of early-teenage awkwardness about him.

Robert took advantage of Jon's temporary preoccupation to plant himself firmly between his mother and brother. His voice trembled as he spoke. "Jon, I know you and Mama didn't get along, but I won't let you do this. I'll fight you if I have to."

"Step aside, kid," Jon warned. "The witch is dangerous."

The younger boy stood his ground. "The only one who's dangerous is you! Just look at yourself! Stabbing your own mother? _Our_ mother?"

In a flash, Elsa knocked the icicle out of Jon's hand. "Robert, your brother has been drugged. His memories have been erased. He doesn't remember who we are."

"Brother?" Jon repeated incredulously. The murderous rage was beginning to recede from his eyes, giving way to confusion. "But…I don't have a brother."

"Yes you do!" Robbie shouted urgently. "All those nights we sneaked out of bed to eat chocolate? Building snowmen in the Great Hall? Our toy soldiers? What about that time we got spanked for throwing reindeer poop at Uncle Kristoff? Jon, please try to remember!"

Elsa quickly cut in. "Your name is Jon Nikolas Frostberg. Your birthday is the twelfth of May. When you play chess, you always go for the Queenside Castle. You don't like Havarti cheese, and you're allergic to artichoke. You can eat eighty-seven chocolate-covered strawberries in a minute. You have a birthmark shaped like a snowflake two inches below your left knee."

Jon eyed her strangely. "How do you know all this?"

"Because I am your mother, and Robert is your brother! Jon, don't believe anything the Duke tells you! He drugged you and took away your memories, that's why you can't remember us!"

"Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, my dear Snow Queen." The Duke interjected. "Jon, you think I got some magic potion to make you forget your past life? That the wicked Snow Queen is actually your long-lost mother? That every single person in the entire nation of Weselton is lying? Wouldn't you say that it's more likely that Witchy simply did some snooping and studying? Wouldn't it make sense that she'd be curious about the one other person who has the same powers? Come on Jon, Occam's Razor. Whatever explanation has the fewest what-ifs is the most plausible one."

"Bullshit!" Robbie shouted. "Jon, we didn't even know you were coming until the moment you got here? When would we even have had time to learn those things about you?"

"Come on now, Jon," the Duke coaxed. "You've spent years upon years preparing for this moment. Are you going to let all that hard work and sacrifice go to waste… all because of a little psychological manipulation?" The Duke unsheathed the same sword Jon had used to demolish the painting of Elsa. In a showy, flamboyant motion, he laid it in Jon's hands. "When you carry this sword, you carry with you the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. Strike, my brave warrior! Strike for love! Strike for fear! Strike for Weselton!"

With a heavy sigh, Jon swung the sword over his head. "I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

"Jon, please! I don't know what else they told you, but they're all lies! I love you, and I love Arendelle. I have never hurt anyone intentionally. You have to believe me!" Elsa pleaded desperately. Her self-preservation instincts were screaming at her to strike. Just one bolt of ice, and the threat was neutralized. Despite all the vast progress Jon had achieved over the years, Elsa knew that she could still oust him with her superior control and experience.

But her maternal instincts protested otherwise. She couldn't attack her own son. Besides, God only knew how much Arendelle would suffer if both she and Jon unleashed their full powers.

She could only use defensive moves. Elsa threw up an icy wall to stave off the assault, but just as quickly, Jon blasted it away.

The Duke laughed maniacally. "Come on Jon, finish her!"

Robbie leapt forward and tried to wrestle the sword away from his brother. But Jon was substantially bigger and stronger, so his efforts proved futile. As Jon continued to advance, his mind warred against itself, oscillating between determination and ambivalence. As he was just three feet away, he faltered. The sword clattered to the ground.

"I can't do it." Jon shook his head.

"The witch must die!" With an agility nearly impossible for a man of his age and stature, the Duke lunged forward and grabbed the jeweled handle. He rolled to the side and delivered a vicious upward thrust, driving its steely length deep into Elsa's stomach.

As Elsa lay slumped over on the ground in a rapidly-growing pool of her own blood, the Duke lifted the sword high over his head. "Any last words before I cut your heart out, witch?"

Elsa forced herself to sit up straight. Her skin was becoming cold and clammy, her eyes dulling in death, and her strength fading away. What could she say to Jon in these final moments?

Then it came to her in a glorious stroke of inspiration. With a loud gasp of pain, she twirled her hands to create a music box out of ice.

The Duke scoffed. "And what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Elsa glared him straight in the eye with the most defiant look she could muster. "Making my last words count."

With her final ounce of strength, she turned the dial and let the music play. Jon's favorite lullaby as a toddler filled the despondent atmosphere.

_I love you forever,_

_I like you for always._

_As long as I'm living,_

_My baby you'll be._

The last thing Elsa heard before her mind went blank and she drifted off into a hazy nothingness was Jon's voice. "Mama!" he screamed hysterically, flinging himself by her side.


	29. Beware the Frozen Heart

**Sorry for the later updates! I'm having a mild case of writer's block. Our story is almost finished, and I PROMISE that I will try to update more frequently!**

**Aren't you glad I didn't have Jon stab Elsa? **

**My goal in this story was to portray Jon as more misguided than evil, and I felt I was making him too antagonistic in early chapters. That's why the change was implemented!**

**Unfortunately, things will only get worse in this chapter**

**Chapter 29:**

In a blinding whirlwind of color and deafening roar of blood pounding in his ears, Jon could feel his memories rushing back. The sweet melodies of his childhood uprooting years upon years of artificial memories. With all the force and vigor of a pickaxe clanging against a stubborn block of ice, the soft music chiseled away the lies of the past, tearing asunder his illusions and sending the sanctuary of his ignorance crashing down.

Scenes from his short but eventful life flashed through his mind. Mama singing him to sleep night after night. Discovering his powers. Holding Robbie in his arms for the first time. Raiding the kitchen for sweets. All those camping trips with Daddy and Uncle Kristoff. The tragic accident that brought the happy times to an abrupt end, and the downward spiral that henceforth began.

For the first time in forever, Jon knew who he was. A sovereign prince of Arendelle. An heir to a proud legacy. A beloved brother and son.

And thanks to his own doing, soon to be an orphan.

"Mama!" he shrieked again, flinging himself by Elsa's side. Icy tears streamed down his cheeks. "No… please…" Jon's voice came out in barely a whisper. He cradled her lifeless body in both arms and gently brushed back a lock of platinum blonde hair. The same hair that grew on his own head. Elsa had hardly aged one bit from when he last saw her face. Radiant even in death.

He did this. He killed his own mother. Even though it had not been his hand that delivered her killing strike, he had facilitated her death. If not for him distracting and demoralizing her with his hateful, misguided rants, the Duke wouldn't have stood a chance. If not for him, his mother would still be alive. Remorse and self-loathing tore at his insides.

If he hadn't run away from home in the first place, none of this would've happened. He was the instigator, the root of everyone's misery. Jon had been stolen away from his home and lost eight years of his life. But in retrospect, he was the lucky one. He had his memories removed and floated through the past eight years in ignorant bliss, while Mama and Robbie had agonized for him day after day. Bitter tears of self-hatred scalded his cheeks, as Jon wished he could end his life.

Jon was barely cognizant of the thick gray clouds beginning to obscure the clear summer sky, or of the snowflakes drifting down from above. Nor did he notice that the earth beneath his feet had become a solid sheet of ice extending for miles, or hear the confused murmurs of townspeople in the distance.

* * *

"Get her to the doctor! Hurry!" A chorus of thundering footsteps and hollering voices drew him out of his stupor. Jon felt the heavy weight lift from his lap, and looked up in time to see a bunch of people he only vaguely recognized. A large, burly man with blond hair hoisted Mama onto one shoulder and began running for the castle gates.

As the shock of his revelation wore off, an equally harrowing realization took its place. Everything he had ever known was untrue. For eight long years, he had been deceived and manipulated. Stolen from his home at a tender age. Betrayed by the man he loved as a grandfather. Fed a steady diet of lies. Indoctrinated into a false reality. Eyes burning with murderous rage, Jon turned to face the Duke.

The pompous gray-haired man dropped the bloody sword and trembled as he spoke. "Jon, I can explain…"

Jon's fists trembled with rage as a web of ice emanated from his feet, spreading across the blood-soaked ground. The blood of his dear mother. "You've got about thirty seconds."

"She lied to you!" The Duke pleaded desperately. "She promised she would never hit you, but she did! She set off an eternal winter on her coronation! And she froze Auntie Anna's heart! I was only trying to protect you!"

"You knew!" Jon screamed furiously, with clouds of snow swirling above his head. "You knew how much I wanted to go home! And those letters from Mama saying she didn't want me back… Oh God I was so stupid! Of course you wrote them! And all those lies about Mama bringing Weselton to ruin… she didn't do that, you did!"

"Jon, listen to me! All those idiots saying it was Mama's fault, they are the riffraff of Weselton. _Nobody_ takes them seriously! They are just a bunch of ignorant, uneducated fools who have no idea what they're talking about. They needed a scapegoat for their own poverty, so they chose her!" The Duke's voice escalated to a high-pitched whine.

"They only believe that because you told them! You lied to them, the way you lied to me!" Jon's anger gave way to complete and utter despondency. The tears froze as they trickled down his cheeks. "I lost eight years of my life thanks to you!"

"Jon, please! I'll make it up to you. I'll give you anything you want!"

"It's a little too late for that! Can you give me back my time? Because of you, I never got to make peace with my mother… never got to see my brother grow up. I missed out on so much! Every Christmas, Easter, birthday… "

"It's not too late!" The Duke interjected hastily. "You are young, there's still plenty of time!"

Jon's voice became deathly soft. "Actually, it is too late." In a flash, he whirled around and grabbed the sniveling little coward tightly around the neck. "For you!"

In a violent gust of rage, Jon threw his hands forward and unleashed eight years of hatred. The Duke's body instantly exploded into smithereens. Bloody scraps of flesh, bone, clothing, and ice covered every inch of the ground. All that was left of that smarmy little man was an enormous mess of splattered entrails.

The castle walls shook from the force of the blast. As the tremors slowly abated, Jon began to regain his senses. He glanced down at his own palms. He had killed a man. It certainly didn't feel good, and he derived no pleasure from the pool of blood surrounding his feet, but Jon knew it had to be done. Utterly overwhelmed and exhausted, Jon buried his face in both hands and sank to the ground, trembling and sobbing as layer upon layer of snowflakes piled up around him

A hand on his shoulder had Jon turning his head. Robert. Jon shuddered and turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "Robbie… just leave me alone," he mumbled.

But the younger boy would not budge. His green eyes were as wide and bright as ever. "Jon, I've missed you…" he said softly.

Jon instinctively opened his mouth to say, "I miss you too," but he quickly clammed up. He couldn't echo that sentiment. He didn't miss his dear brother in those eight years, because he had all but forgotten him. When he finally found his voice again, Jon managed to choke, "It's great to see you again. But… I should probably go now."

"Go? Where are you going?"

"Away," Jon mumbled. "Far away. I turned my back on everyone, and now I've killed Mama. I don't belong here."

"Yes you do! You are the Crown Prince of Arendelle!" Robbie urged. "Besides, Mama is still alive."

Jon didn't need to be told twice. Without another word, he seized Robbie by the hand and made a mad dash for the castle gates.

* * *

Jon and Robert barged into the hospital wing of the castle and pelted the doctor with a rapid barrage of questions. "How is she? Is she going to be okay? When will she be—"

"She's alive," the doctor confirmed. "But she has lost a lot of blood, in addition to a collapsed lung and a ruptured spleen. Her blood pressure is dangerously low and I can barely detect a pulse."

"Will Mama survive?" Jon pleaded desperately.

The doctor wiped a tear from his cheek and drew a long, quivering breath. "Not for much longer, I'm afraid. Three days if we're lucky."

"Three days?" Anna shrieked furiously. "That bastard Duke! That sick, evil, demented piece of shit! I'll kill him! I'll gouge out his eyes and rip out his tongue and skin him alive and shove that ridiculous wig right up his ass!"

"We have to get her to Grand Pabbie!" Kristoff shouted. "He'll know what to do!"

The doctor shook his head grimly and pointed to the window. Jon gasped in horror. The snow was now about ten feet deep, extending as far as the eye could see. Chimneys and rooftops appeared only as tiny dark spots amidst the endless field of white. Not a trace of blue sky or summer sun could be seen. Billions of tons of fresh snow continued to hammer against the land with palpable cruelty.

"You'll freeze to death before you even reach the castle gates." Kristoff furiously opened his mouth to argue, but fell silent. He knew the doctor was right.

In that instant, Jon's world came crashing down upon him. There was no hope. His dear mother, who had always been there for him, was gone forever. No matter how far he had gone astray, her loving arms had always been wide open to him. But now that bridge was burned forever. Jon had driven away everyone who ever cared about him, and he deserved to die alone and unloved.

Freezing temperatures enveloped the entire castle, as a veritable blizzard tore through the hospital ward. A vicious gust of wind smashed through the windows, sending a shower of glass shards and icy fragments into the air. Everyone shivered and pulled their jackets tightly around their bodies.

Jon's voice was soft but clear above the howling wind. "Good bye, Mama. I love you." He turned to exit the room.

Robert grabbed his sleeve. "Jon, wait! Come back!"

"Robbie, please! Just let me go! I don't belong here," Jon pleaded, trying to free himself.

"Yes you do!" Robert shouted, holding up a hand to shield his face against the furious onslaught of snow and ice. "You are the Crown Prince of Arendelle!"

"The only place I belong is in the dungeons! Then on the guillotine, and finally in Hell! Don't you get it? I committed treason!"

"No you didn't! Mama is still alive!" Robbie fought to maintain his grip, desperately trying to squeeze himself between Jon and the half-open door.

"Only for another three days!" Jon shot back. "Let's not sugarcoat things. Mama is dying, and God only knows how many more people will freeze to death because of me! The sooner I'm out of everyone's lives, the better!" His voice cracked with distress and anguish, and the tears froze as they fell. "Good bye, Robbie. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you all those years. Take good care of Arendelle for me. I know you can do it."

"I'm not losing you!" Robert shouted. "I waited eight years to get my brother back! Jon, you can unfreeze it! I know you can!"

"I'm not the same brother you once knew! I've gone too far down the wrong path, and now it's too late!"

The blizzard intensified as Jon became increasingly agitated, trapping the room's occupants in knee-deep snow. "I'm completely out of control! Don't you see?" A streak of ice involuntarily erupted from his hand, missing Robert's head by inches. But the younger boy refused to move. Jon gasped and clenched his palm. "Let me go!"

Another explosion of ice jolted the entire room. But this time, the blast hit Robert square in the chest.


	30. Race Against Time

**We are near the end of our journey! I'm expecting 2-3 more real chapters, a 10 Years Later epilogue, and a 20 Years Later epilogue.**

**After I finish this story, I'll take a few weeks off, then begin my next story! It'll be another Revenge of Hans a little similar to Playing Dirty, except Hans will stay evil to the end. PM me if you want a summary!**

**Chapter 30:**

Robert staggered across the castle courtyard, through a blinding field of white, until he reached the stables. He smiled through chattering teeth and petted his horse's mane. "All right, buddy. Let's go find my brother."

"Robert, what are you doing?" Kristen suddenly appeared in the doorway of the stable

Robbie got straight to the point. "I'm going to put an end to this winter." His voice was soft but determined. "I'm going to find Jon and talk some sense into him."

The red-haired girl gritted her teeth. "That might not be such a good idea right now," she finally managed. "There's talk around town. People are really mad at Jon. They think he's doing this intentionally. That he's still working with Weselton."

"Then it looks like we'll have to change their minds."

"You'll freeze to death out there. Besides, you don't even know where Jon is. He could be miles away by now."

"I know my brother. I'll bet he's headed for the North Mountain." The young prince swung one leg over the saddle. "Don't tell anyone where I'm going. Especially not Kai."

"Don't worry about Kai. Worry about your hair." She bent slightly down to his level and narrowed her eyes with surprise and confusion, as a strange apparition began to manifest.

"Huh?" Robert's free hand immediately flew to his messy blonde locks.

"Your hair," Kristen repeated incredulously. "There's something strange about it."

"Excuse me? My hair? You should see what your hair looks like every morning!" Robert chuckled teasingly.

Kristen shook her head slowly. "Your hair is turning white."

"Wait, what?" Robert peered at his reflection in a sheet of ice. Indeed, streaks of white were propagating themselves through his sandy-colored hair.

"Did Jon strike you with his powers?"

Robert shrugged and nodded nonchalantly. "Yeah, right here." He laid a hand over his chest.

Kristen gasped and seized him by the hands. "Robbie, get back inside the castle right now! You aren't going anywhere in this condition."

When Robert only maintained his confused expression, her voice became increasingly desperate and high-strung. "Don't you realize what happened? Jon struck you _in the heart_!"

"But I feel fine," Robbie protested.

"Robert, don't be an idiot!" Kristen snapped. "You'll only freeze faster out there!"

"My heart is not frozen," Robert asserted with much more confidence than he felt. "Even if it were, Jon can just unfreeze it." He snapped the reins and galloped out into the blizzard. "Take good care of everyone. And remember, don't tell anyone where I'm going!"

* * *

Jon stumbled across the frozen terrain, hands shielding his face against the relentless onslaught of snow and sleet. The cold didn't bother him, but his heart broke at the misery and devastation that surrounded him on all fronts. Ships trapped in the fjords cracked and splintered as the ice etched their ways into the wood. The town square, which was typically bustling with activity from dawn to dusk, was completely barren. What used to be buildings were now little but amorphous lumps of white. Arendelle had been reduced to an icy wasteland because of him.

But the real storm was in his mind. God only knew how many people would freeze or starve to death because of him. How many livelihoods would be destroyed, how many businesses shut down. He was the root of the problem. He had brought death and destruction upon the kingdom he was destined to rule. He had spent eight years in cohorts with the enemy. He had torn asunder the proud legacy his forefathers had established, and single-handedly brought Arendelle to its knees. In fact, Jon had done everything short of personally delivering his mother's killing strike.

Worst of all, he had no idea how to mitigate, let alone fix, what he had created. He was beyond forgiveness. What hope could there be for such a miserable wretch?

Jon whirled about aimlessly, trying to regain his bearings. But he could see nothing at all through the endless field of white. So on a completely baseless intuition, he headed in what he thought was the way to the North Mountain.

There he would take one last glimpse at the ice palace. An ultimate reminder that winter could be beautiful. Today would be the last day he'd spend in the land of the living, and he wanted the final image to grace his vision to be one of beauty and wonder. After all the pain and devastation wrought by his icy powers, Jon wished to be reminded that they could potentially be used for good as well. Only then could he even hope to believe that he was not rotten to the core. Only then could he be persuaded that perhaps there was still the slightest vestige of good buried deep within the filthy, putrid cesspool of his soul.

When he had finished indulging his sensibilities, he would do what had to be done. Jon knew that in order for any semblance of peace or normalcy to return, he had to be removed from the equation. Once he was gone, the icy curse would be lifted from Arendelle. Once he was gone, justice would be served for his poor, dying mother. In time, Robbie would inherit the throne. Arendelle would then have a proper King, instead of a monster such as himself.

With a heavy heart and determined footsteps, Jon continued his trek towards the North Mountain. He owed a debt he could never pay. So the best he could do was to pay with his life.

* * *

Kristen barged loudly into the hospital wing of the castle. "Robbie's gone!" she sputtered.

The doctor, who had been kneeling by Elsa's bedside and carefully monitoring her vitals, diverted his attention. "Gone? What do you mean?"

"Robbie went looking for Jon. He's headed for the North Mountain, He said he's gonna talk to Jon, try and end this winter." The young redhead clutched at a stitch in her chest. "Something's wrong with Robbie. His hair was turning white."

"What?" Anna shrieked, leaping up from her chair. "Impossible!"

Kristoff scratched his head thoughtfully. "When Robbie grabbed Jon as he was trying to leave, it did kinda look like he was hit by a bolt of ice." He shifted uneasily. "Are you absolutely sure his hair was turning white? It wasn't just snow?"

"Positive. Robbie even said that Jon struck him in the chest."

"No…" Anna shook her head. Her knees buckled as a strange, unsettling sense of foreboding crept in. "Jon froze Robbie's heart…"

"Elsa," Kristoff mumbled softly.

"Come again?"

Kristoff repeated himself with greater conviction. "Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. We have to get Elsa to Robbie."

"Hold it," the doctor interjected. "Queen Elsa is in no condition to be moved. And besides, nobody is going anywhere in this weather."

Anna huffed impatiently. "Sir, with all due respect, every single person in this room—and this kingdom—will soon be dead if we keep standing here doing nothing."

Kristoff knelt by the mattress and gently hoisted Elsa's limp, lifeless form into his strong arms. Brushing back a stray lock of hair, he whispered into her ear. "Elsa, I don't know if you can hear me, but hang in there. Robbie needs you right now. And so does Jon."

He walked her down the stairs, out the door, and across the courtyard, making sure to shield her from the stinging cold. Finally, they arrived at the royal stables. There stood a large, brawny reindeer munching on carrots, wearing an oddly-familiar medal around its neck.

Kristoff looked him straight in the eye and spoke solemnly. "Sven Junior, your father was the greatest reindeer that ever lived. Countless wolves have met their end beneath his antlers, and twenty years ago, his courage and tenacity helped save this family and kingdom. I know that you are every bit the fearless warrior and friend that he ever was. I can see it in your eyes. Today, it's your turn to deliver."

The ice harvester vaulted onto the reindeer's strong back, cradling Elsa protectively against his chest. A strange sense of déjà vu flooded his senses. "Pull us out, Sven Junior. We're in a race against time."

**More to come! I promise the next chapter will be more action-packed!**


	31. It's What Brothers Do

**Warning:**** This chapter will be very sad! But everything will go uphill from here. **

**Thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing! Shout out to all my Guest reviewers, whose reviews I unfortunately cannot respond to via PM. Your feedback is all greatly appreciated!**

**Just an FYI in case anyone was wondering. Jon is 18 and Robert is 14 at this point. **

**Btw, I am NOT killing Elsa. Not like this, at least :)**

**Without further ado, Chapter 31:**

For the second time in his life, Kristoff was riding madly through a summer snowstorm. Except this time, it was Elsa who lay dying and unconscious in his arms. He gently stroked her cheek in a show of brotherly affection. "Hang in there," he whispered softly in her ear, unsure whether she could hear her or not. "We're going to find Jon and Robbie, and everything will be all right. You'll see."

Her pulse was faint and her breathing was slow and shallow. She was still alive, but barely. Kristoff pulled Elsa closer to his chest and wrapped his jacket around her cold, lifeless body. "Family is worth fighting for. You and Anna taught me that."

Kristoff ducked as an indecipherable hunk of debris flew straight at his face, propelled by icy winds of hurricane proportions. He whipped the knit cap off his head and used it to shield Elsa's face from the biting cold. "Robert!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Where are you?"

* * *

Robert drifted in and out of consciousness as he stumbled across the frozen landscape at a painfully slow and laborious pace. The cold was brutal and the wind a blade of ice against his cheeks. With every passing moment, his vision became blurrier and his world colder. His golden blonde hair was now white as snow and his face absent of all color, except for a bluish tint begotten of hypothermia.

"Jon…" he managed to wheeze. "Where are you?" Robbie could hardly even breathe as the frigid air constricted his airways and lacerated the delicate membranes of his sinuses.

Robbie glanced down at his hands and gasped. His fingertips were completely frozen, marred with the tenebrous hue of frostbite. Several nails had split in half. The icy wind sheared mercilessly at the tender, exposed flesh. He could hardly feel the pain through the numbing cold, but the grotesque sight made his stomach churn nonetheless. Threads of ice crept further up his fingers, encasing his palms in a fine layer of bluish frost.

A sudden stab of pain in his chest brought the boy to his knees. There was no doubt about it. His heart was freezing and he was running out of time. Only an act of true love could save him.

"No…" he whispered faintly. He could feel the icy tendrils wrapping themselves around his heart in a crushing grip. They crawled along his entrails like large thorny snakes, proliferated throughout his body and saturated his entire being.

"Jon loves me! I know he does!" Robbie shouted out loud to no one in particular.

_No he doesn't,_ a nasty little voice sniggered in the back of his head. _Why would Jon ever love you? You killed Daddy, you disobedient little wretch. You ruined everything with your stubbornness, your refusal to listen, your deplorable lack of judgment. You were responsible for breaking apart this happy family. You're not even just a spare. You are a disgrace to your family and kingdom. _

"Shut up!" Robbie screamed, clapping both hands over his ears. His heart throbbed painfully as the ice continued to consume him from the inside out. "We've been through some tough times, but I know my brother still loves me!"

_Oh Robert… if only there was someone out there who loved you…_

"I don't care!" Robbie shouted, tears beginning to blur his vision. The boy's face contorted with agony as fresh wave of ice tore through his chest, sending him to his knees. "I don't know if Jon can ever forgive me after what I've done. I don't know if I can stop this winter. But I will go to the ends of the earth for my brother, because I love him!"

As if Jon could hear his proclamation, the blizzard calmed down. The raging wind came to a standstill. Bits of snow and ice hung motionlessly in the air, giving way to enhanced visibility.

A tall young man with platinum blonde hair stood in the distance, halfway across the frozen fjord, amidst a wrecked fleet of fishing boats. "Jon!" Robbie forced himself to stand up straight and stumbled forward.

* * *

Jon's heart broke at the sight of his dear little brother, freezing solid before his very eyes. _I really am a monster,_ he thought sadly. "Robbie, please. Just let me go. Haven't I done enough damage already?"

"Where are you going to go?" Robbie's voice came out in barely a whisper. "You belong back in Arendelle."

"No, Robbie. I deserve to die… alone and forgotten," Jon mumbled dejectedly. He gestured at the blizzard that raged all around. "This is what hell will be like, and that's where I belong. Please Robbie, go back home. Once I'm dead, all my magic will die with me. Arendelle will be at peace again, and you will be saved."

"No! I won't let you do this!" Robert protested. "Jon, you're my brother and my best friend. I would rather die than live another day without you. Remember what Mama taught us? Love is the answer, not death. Love will thaw."

Jon shook his head. "I don't even know what love is." Those were the words of complete and utter defeat. A heart hardened by self-loathing could not be easily softened.

Robbie's teeth chattered as he pulled his cloak tighter around his trembling body. The icy claw was tightening its grip around his heart, and any moment, it would completely strangle the life out of him. His minutes were numbered, and he had to make them count.

"That's okay, I do! I know all about love. Do you know why? Because I had some great teachers… and you were one of them."

This caught his attention. Jon raised his eyebrows incredulously. How could this be? He was the very antithesis of love.

"Love is putting someone else's needs before yours... You know, how Auntie Anna threw herself in front of Hans' sword, so Mommy could live. How Mommy sacrificed herself for Arendelle. How Daddy died for me, even though I was disobedient. How you gave your ice cream money to that little girl, even though you waited in line for so long already."

A single tear slid down Jon's cheek, at the bittersweet recollection of the magical childhood they shared. "Robbie, that was a long time ago. I'm not the brother you once knew. I'm an abomination, a disgrace to Arendelle."

But Robert would not be dissuaded. "You set aside time every day to play with me, no matter how bratty or whiny I was. You would always read to me when Mama was busy. You stood up for me every time someone said I was _just the spare_. When I was three years old, I broke your favorite sled crashing into a tree, but you never got mad. You were more concerned whether or not I was hurt. Jon, how can you say you don't know what love is?"

The thundering of hoofbeats in the distance caught Jon's attention. He pointed in the distance. "Look! There's Uncle Kristoff… and he's got _Mama_ with him! Go on, Robbie. There's your act of true love. Go save yourself."

Robbie's jaw dropped in surprise. Hope shone in his cold, barren eyes that were rapidly glazing over with death. Indeed, Kristoff and Elsa were flying across the frozen fjord on the back of a very determined reindeer.

Then he hesitated. "But what about you, Jon?"

"I can't be saved. It's too late for me."

When Robert instead took a tentative step towards Jon, the older boy assumed a more imperious tone. "Robbie, this could be your last chance at getting saved! Don't waste your precious time with me, I'm a lost cause." He vigorously thrust a finger in the direction of their mother and uncle. "Go!"

Robert wanted to stay by his brother's side. But his self-preservation instincts screamed in protest. _You idiot! You could be saved! _He vacillated for a few moments, unsure of what to do, until a sudden explosion of pain beneath his sternum. He was truly running out of time. With both hands clutching his chest, Robert inched forward to meet his mother.

Kristoff dug his heels into the reindeer's flank, and Sven Junior catapulted forward in a burst of energy. They were getting closer and closer. Robbie could feel his strength returning and his hopes soaring. He was going to make it!

_Crack!_

A loud, cacophonous sound rang sharp and clear across the frozen landscape. Curious, Robbie turned around. His heart stopped at the dreadful sight.

Jon sat slumped over on the ice, his face buried in both hands. High overhead, the mast of a ship was splintering in the cold. The towering wooden pillar teetered ominously back and forth for a few seconds. Finally, it broke free of its scaffolding and began to fall. And Jon was sitting obliviously in its path.

Robert turned back to Elsa one last time. _I love you, Mama,_ he mouthed wordlessly.

When they were children, Jon had always been there for him. Before he became embittered by the tragic death of their father, Jon had the most loving and caring big brother. All his life, Robbie had been showered with gift of love. Today it was his turn to give.

Spears of ice blasted through Robert's veins, erupting outwards, spreading across his skin and slicing up his entrails. As the icy curse took its toll, one final wisp of memory flashed through his mind. He was a year old, terrified by a thunderstorm late in the night. Jon had held him lovingly in his arms, shielding him from the darkness and terror. "You're okay, Robbie. I've got you. I'm always here for you. That's what brother are for."

Robert's voice came out in barely a whisper. "I've got you this time, Jon."

The falling mast was less than three feet away from crushing Jon to death. Robbie leapt forward onto his brother's back, shielding him from the impact. Amidst a deafening explosion of shattering wood, Prince Robert of Arendelle drew his final breath. Flesh and blood turned to solid ice.

His brother's name had been Robbie's first word. And it would also be his last.


	32. Redemption

**Thank you so much to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! This is the last "real" chapter of our adventure! The next chapter will be pure brotherly fluff. After that, there will be an epilogue that takes place 5-10 years later. **

**Then it's onto the next story! Once again, feel free to ask if you'd like a summary **

**Chapter 32:**

The earsplitting sound of wood shattering above his head brought Jon out of his trance. He instinctively whirled around and threw up his hands defensively. But there was no need. Something, somehow, had mysteriously protected him from the impact.

As Jon regained his bearings, he was cognizant of two frozen hands wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Fingers encased in thick, bluish ice. Curious, Jon spun around to find him face-to-face with the owner of the hands.

"Robbie!" he gasped aloud, his voice raspy and broken in despair. His dear brother lay slumped over his back, arms locked around Jon's torso, shielding him from the falling mast. Fragments of splintered wood and sawdust lay scattered across the ground. Evidence of the grisly death that should have been his.

"No…" Jon croaked inaudibly. "No, please… It should have been me. I'm the one who should have died…"

Jon lifted two shaking hands and caressed his brother's frozen face. Never again would those bright green eyes sparkle with love and laughter. Never again would a smile grace those sweet, boyish features. Nothing could ever crack through that solid mask of death, forever frozen in a silent scream.

Tears streamed down Jon's cheeks as he continued to stare into Robert's lifeless eyes. His mind flashed back to a long-lost memory fourteen years ago. The day his brother was born. Jon remembered how his four-year-old heart had swelled with pride and affection as he cradled in his arms that beautiful, bright-eyed infant. The boys had looked each other in the eye and gave an unspoken vow to love and cherish each other for as long as they lived.

He had failed to honor his oath. But Robbie had not. No matter how far he had gone down the wrong path, Robbie's love for him never failed, never gave up, and never ran dry.

But now the bridge was forever burned.

"Why, Robbie? Why? What did I do to deserve you? How could you love this worthless, wretched brother of yours who has done nothing but hurt and destroy?"

His inquiries went unanswered, echoing vacantly across the empty expanses of ice. Perhaps there were no answers to be found. There was simply no reason, no logic underlying the strange and powerful force called love. No one knew how that inexplicable bond of brotherhood had managed to transcend years upon years of estrangement. But somehow it did. And the evidence lay in plain view on the frozen fjord, for all of Arendelle to see.

Jon couldn't bear to look into his brother's lifeless eyes for another second. He threw himself forward and pulled Robert into a crushing embrace, clutching the frozen body helplessly.

Through his hacking sobs, Jon somehow found the strength to sing. It was strangely involuntary, as the music flowed from his tongue.

_I love you forever,_

_I like you for always_

_As long as I'm living, _

_My brother you'll be._

As the song came to a close, Jon dissolved back into a fit of tears. He was only vaguely aware of a strange warmth pressing against his chest. Jon quickly dismissed the sensation. He must have been hallucinating in his grief.

But the circle of warmth expanded, intensified, and seemed to swallow up his entire being. What was going on?

Jon's bleary, bloodshot eyes drifted south. Then he jumped back in shock, daring not to believe what he was seeing. The ice that covered Robbie's chest was thawing! But it didn't stop there. The heat continued to spread outwards across his entire body, until ice became flesh and blood once again. Finally, Robbie opened his eyes, drew a deep breath, and stood up straight.

"Robbie!" Jon shrieked hysterically. He flung his arms around his brother's living, breathing body, squeezing the air out of his lungs. The steady beat of Robert's heart felt strangely comforting and invigorating against his own.

"You sacrificed yourself for me?" Jon's voice was tentative and irresolute, still daring not to believe that his dear brother had given his life for him.

Robert's face broke into a smile. "That's what brothers are for. You taught me that." He reached out to return the hug. "I love you, Jon."

"Love," Jon repeated softly. It was a word that he had all but forgotten. "An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart." Jon placed a hand against his own chest, feeling his heart beat with a rhythm and resonance that was surprisingly human. Robbie's wasn't the only heart that was frozen. All those years of bitterness must have caused his heart to go cold.

Many years ago, he had planted the seed of love in his brother's heart. Now Robbie was bringing it back.

"Love will thaw…" Jon murmured to himself. "That's it. Love!" He repeated with great conviction. Jon raised his hands into the air.

The ground shook beneath their feet as the ice began to thaw. An interface of warmth spread across the frozen wasteland, unlocking the vibrant waters from their icy prison. Soft popping noises were heard as the waves lapped gently against the bodies of ships. Only a disk of ice beneath the brothers' feet remained intact, preventing them from plunging into the fjord. The snow blanketing the kingdom swirled gracefully into the air like a herd of white butterflies, liberating Arendelle from its curse. But nothing could compare to the newfound warmth blossoming in Jon's dead and dormant heart.

As the final vestiges of snow and ice dissipated into the warm summer sky, the boys shyly turned to face each other, as if meeting for the first time. But as they locked eyes, the invisible barrier melted away. Years of pain, of bitterness, of angry words and unanswered questions, had been conquered by love.

For the first time in ten years, the brothers embraced, holding tight to one another and wishing to never let go.

* * *

"Is Mama gonna be okay? Isn't there anything you can do to save her? Any magic herbs or potion? What about the fire crystals? The Duke—" Jon and Robert pelted Grand Pabbie with an endless barrage of questions as they tumbled into the trolls' enclave.

The ancient troll held up both hands to still their incoherent ramblings. He waved a hand at Kristoff. "Come, bring her to me." Kristoff gingerly dismounted his steed and knelt by Grand Pabbie's side, cradling Elsa protectively in his arms. Her skin was deathly pale by now, and her lips were tinged blue. The troll laid a stubby, stony hand over Elsa's heart.

"Well?" Robbie demanded impatiently.

"Hush, my child. I'm trying to listen." Grand Pabbie closed his eyes, and a look of intense focus and concentration overtook his features. A faint shimmer of light emanated from beneath his palm. After several minutes of nerve-wracking silence, he summoned the boys forward.

"Jon, Robert, there is something you must know."

"What is it?" Jon pleaded. "Did you find out what's wrong with Mama? Can you save her?"

The elderly shaman nodded. "I can, indeed. The wounds to the flesh can be healed in a matter of seconds. But there is also something far more sinister going on here. You boys must listen very carefully."

The brothers swallowed and fidgeted nervously, as Grand Pabbie continued. "Your mother has lost nearly half the blood in her body, and gone into hypovolemic shock. She is just barely clinging to life. In her debilitated state, her body is incapable of harboring such powerful magic within. Her icy powers have flared out of control, and are consuming her from the inside out."

"What?" Kristoff exclaimed. "You mean… Elsa is freezing herself? But that's impossible! Elsa always said the cold doesn't bother her."

The troll shook his head sadly. "See for yourself." He held out one of Elsa's hands for Kristoff to feel. The soft, delicate flesh was as cold and lifeless as the blocks of ice he harvested. There could be no doubt.

"When the master is weakened, the underlings will revolt. It takes a tremendous amount of resources from the body and soul to sustain something so powerful. I'm afraid to say that in her current state, our dear Elsa is becoming a victim of her own ice. There is only one thing that can save her. A potion made with something that only you can provide, Jon."

"What is it? Oh please, I'll do anything!" Jon pleaded. And he meant it wholeheartedly. There wasn't anything he wouldn't sacrifice to bring his mother back.

"The blood of another ice-bearer. Willingly given."

"Do it!" Jon demanded without a moment of hesitation. He rolled up a sleeve and thrust his arm in Grand Pabbie's face. "I am _not_ losing my mother again!"

The troll smiled. "Very well, then." He chuckled to himself. "I've never seen a family with more love experts." Grand Pabbie slid his obsidian knife neatly across the crook of Jon's arm, and let a steady stream of blood trickle into a glass vial. The liquid effervesced, and puffs of brightly-colored smoke wafted forth in swirling tendrils. Then he made his way over to Elsa's side, and emptied its contents down her throat. The potion was swallowed without resistance.

Grand Pabbie stroked her cheek, smiling affectionately. "Tomorrow morning, she'll wake up good as new. She's a tough one, our dear Elsa."

A wave of relief washed over Jon like a cool, fresh mountain spring. For the second time that day, he had been spared of a terrible fate by nothing short of a miracle. The past eight years had set him on a cataclysmic path to death and destruction. His cold heart and hateful spirit had nearly consumed him from the inside out, and Mama and Robbie had the misfortune of being damned alongside him. Jon knew he was a miserable wretch, and nothing could ever atone for all he had done. Yet here he stood today, loved and forgiven. One day, hopefully, he would be able to forgive himself.

Kristoff scooped Elsa up into his arms and launched himself onto the reindeer's strong back. "You coming?"

Robbie waved him off. "Go on without us. There's something else we need to do." The boys exchanged cryptic smiles and nodded. Indeed, there was still work to be done.

* * *

"Grand Pabbie, may we ask you for one more favor?"

The ancient troll smiled at the two brothers. "I'm all ears."

Jon cracked his knuckles and fidgeted uneasily. "Um… I think… I mean, Arendelle was completely frozen for the past two days. We were wondering if you… if you could maybe assess the damage done, and let us know if there's anything we can fix? Anything you can fix? What I mean is, it would be great if we could somehow mitigate the damage done by…" The young prince bit his nails as he continued to stammer incoherently

Grand Pabbie gritted his teeth. He wanted to be smooth and tactful, but there was no gentle way to break the news. No amount of sugarcoating could alleviate the dreadful truth. "According to my senses, there are between five and eight thousand people dying of cold-related illnesses in Arendelle right now. But do not panic, my child. Not all is lost. There is a rather simple remedy to the curse. Something that, once again, only you can deliver."

"What is it?" Jon interjected hastily. "What do I have to do?"

The troll patted Jon soothingly on the back. "My son, first allow me to explain. I'm sure you are also wondering how this happened, especially since the first Great Freeze left no casualties." When Jon nodded, Grand Pabbie continued his explanation. "You see, there is a fundamental difference between your mother's eternal winter and yours. As distressed as Elsa was when she froze Arendelle on her coronation over twenty years ago, as much as she considered herself an abomination, your mother did not seriously contemplate ending her own life. Not once did she loathe her existence enough to plot her own demise. Your negative emotions were so much stronger and more sinister than hers at the time. That explains the discrepancy. That is why the ramifications of your winter are so much greater."

"Do not fret, Jon. Allow me to reiterate that there is something you can do to lift the curse. Something that only you can carry to completion."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it!"

The ancient troll brushed back a lock of platinum blonde hair and gazed at Jon with his solemn, knowing eyes. "The same way you lifted the icy curse from the land, you must lift the cold out of their bodies. You must absorb their illness and infirmity into your own being, and allow your health and strength to flow into theirs. Always remember, Jon. Love will thaw. And love will heal. It was your cold that afflicted them, and so it shall be your love that saves them. My calculations estimate that exorcising the cold will leave you ill for one month. But when you wake up again, you will find yourself healed in more ways than one."

With a repentant spirit and a willing heart, Jon complied. In concentrating on his love for his family, his kingdom, and ultimately himself, the curse was lifted. Love had the power to right wrongs, heal wounds, and restore Arendelle's Prodigal Son back into grace.

But the effort would leave his body utterly broken and spent. Just as the troll had predicted, Jon would be unconscious and bedridden for the next month. Every muscle and nerve was completely debilitated with pain and fatigue. Thousands of citizens packed themselves into the castle courtyard, with nothing but care and concern for their once-wayward prince.

When he finally awoke from his comatose state, Jon was the happiest he had ever been. His body had been sick for the past month, but his heart and soul had been sick for the past eight years. Now all were restored to health and wholeness by a miracle of love.

For the first time in forever, Jon was truly at peace.


	33. Family Once Again

**Welcome to the last REAL chapter of Brotherly Love! I made some minor edits to the chapter that was posted yesterday... nothing too big.  
**

**I think we all need a bit of family fluff between Elsa and the boys. After this, all that's left is the epilogue, which will take place 5-10 years later.  
**

**Please answer: Do you think Elsa would be justified in striking down Weselton with an enormous blizzard? That's to help me write the epilogue!**

**Chapter 33:**

"_Psst_! Jon, wake up!"

"Huh?" The eighteen year-old mumbled incoherently in his sleep. His eyes remained closed and his body was a lump of lead. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of fatigue and confusion for Jon. He'd barely had minutes to recover from the tremendous shock and disillusionment of the past eight years, before finding himself thrust into a whole new world of turmoil and angst. Shortly after the heartbreaking anagnorisis came the near death of his mother. Immediately followed by horrendous sights of people freezing and starving in the streets, amidst a blizzard of his own doing. Robbie's frozen body on the fjord.

Finally, Jon had spent the next month unconscious and comatose, after lifting the final remnants of his icy curse from Arendelle. Now all he wanted was a little bit of normalcy.

"The sky's awake!" the voice persisted. Jon felt something or someone clamber onto his back. "Come on, come on!"

A few seconds of disoriented blinking and head-shaking brought Jon back to his senses. As his mind slowly cleared, he recognized the excited chatter of his little brother. "Robbie, go back to sleep."

Robert flopped down on his back. "I can't! There's so much we need to catch up on. Come on, let's go do something! Let's go play ice hockey in the Great Hall! Or eat some of that chocolate cake for tomorrow's banquet."

The older boy couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm. But right now Jon was far too tired, and could barely move a muscle. "How about tomorrow morning?"

Robbie quirked an eyebrow and grinned suggestively. "It'll be too late tomorrow morning," he sang tauntingly. "Because we're gonna get caught! So we have to go now!"

Jon couldn't dispute that logic. Quick as a flash, the brothers got dressed and crept out the door, slithering through the silent hallways. With a flick of his wrist, Jon covered the spiral staircase with a sleek coating of ice, and the boys flew downwards on an icy toboggan. As they rounded a sharp corner, Robbie could contain his excitement no longer. The fourteen year-old clambered to his feet and leapt into the air. Propelled by the sled's forward momentum, he crashed awkwardly into a suit of armor. A violent explosion of noise reverberated through the entire castle, loud enough to bring down the entire North Mountain.

"Robbie!" Jon hissed furiously. But he couldn't hold back a chuckle. His little brother was still every bit the lively, adorable klutz he had been at age four. Jon snapped his fingers to dissipate the ice, and the brothers giggled and shushed each other all the way to the towering double-doors of the Great Hall.

"Do the magic, do the magic!"

Jon rolled back his sleeves. "Ready?" The younger boy nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with wonder.

Jon thrust his hands forward, and the marbled floor instantly vanished beneath a sparkling, translucent layer of ice. Two hockey goals materialized on opposite ends of the room. With the arena completed, Jon directed a flurry of ice at himself and his brother, giving them each a helmet, a stick, and a full set of body pads.

To make the game more interesting, Jon created four icy automatons, which were not "Olaf-alive," but could move and play autonomously. Two of them were made in Robbie's image, and the other two were patterned after himself.

With a whoop of laughter, Robert threw down an icy puck. "Three versus three. Let's do this!" Soon the game was in full swing.

About halfway through, Jon was winning by two goals. Not at all an insurmountable lead. In his adrenaline-fueled ecstasy, Robbie took a wild, indiscriminate swing. The puck ricocheted off several pieces of furniture, before colliding squarely with the chandelier overhead.

Both boys stood frozen in horror and trepidation, as they watched the fixtures come loose. The heavy glass ornament plummeted into the ground with a deafening clatter, sending crystalline fragments skittering across the ice in all directions. They instantly threw down their hockey gear, and raced forward to survey the damage.

"No…" Robbie's voice was barely a crestfallen whisper as he picked up the broken pieces. "What have I done? This was Mama's favorite chandelier."

Jon wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Robbie. Accidents happen. It could just as easily have been any of us." Then he winked cryptically. "Besides, no one has to know… _yet_."

With a wave of Jon's hand, an icy chandelier, a flawless replica of the original, took its place in the lofty ceiling. Then he summoned a gust of cold air to blow the broken pieces into the corner of the room. "We'll have to tell Mama eventually. But first I gotta kick your ass here."

"In your dreams!" Robbie shot back playfully. The brothers immediately resumed their game.

* * *

"I totally kicked your ass."

"Yeah right. You can't even hit a puck into the ocean."

"It's not my fault you gave me the crappy stick."

"Every stick is a crappy stick as long as you're using it."

"Oh hey, what was that joke Uncle Hans told? It was at my birthday party when I was three. Uncle Hans said something about Mama and hockey sticks, and then Papa knocked out half his teeth.

"Um… I'm not sure. Papa beat up Uncle Hans way too many times. But I think Uncle Hans said he was gonna put his stick into Mama's goal."

The two young princes laughed and joked as they made their way towards the kitchen. Tomorrow the entire kingdom would be joining in a feast celebrating Jon's return to Arendelle. The chefs had spent weeks preparing a very special chocolate cake. Jon and Robert were sure that if they each just sneaked a few bites and licked a bit of frosting, no one would notice. They flung open the pantry doors and were greeted by—

Nothing.

Before they could register their confusion, a series of heavy footsteps sounded behind them, followed by a disgruntled cough. The boys whirled around. Kai's sweaty face shone in the moonlight.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Huh? What'd we do?"

The corpulent butler was now nearly seventy years old, but possessed the strength and vigor of a man half his age when it came to catching young royal miscreants. After all, the boys' mother and aunt had given him plenty of practice in their childhood days. "I don't mind you two having some fun here and there. But what on earth possessed you to turn the entire castle into a winter wonderland?"

"What do you mean, _the entire castle_? We only did the Great Hall!" Robbie protested.

Kai was not amused. "Well, I slipped on your ice in the Great Hall. I fell flat on my bottom. I've been numb for thirty minutes, and I'm freezing my butt off!"

Robbie giggled under his breath, "You can certainly afford to freeze some of your butt off." Jon desperately covered his own mouth to suppress snorts of laughter.

"Enough!" The brothers fell silent.

Kai rubbed his temple and sighed. "First you leave ice all over the castle. Do you have any idea how senseless and dangerous that is? Someone could slip and fall and break a leg… especially in the dead of the night! And do you have any idea how sensitive the carpets are to water damage? What on earth possessed you to do that? And now I find you in here pillaging that chocolate cake needed for tomorrow's banquet… which the chefs worked for three days on! Three whole days!"

"We didn't touch that cake," Jon asserted calmly. _Technically I'm telling the truth._ _We were going take it, but we didn't!_ Robbie nodded vigorously, his hair flapping about.

Kai thrust a stubby finger at the empty shelf in the pantry. "I suppose the cake grew wings and flew away?"

Robert shrugged. "Crazier things have happened in this kingdom and this family."

Kai gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Just wait till I tell your mother!"

Everyone jumped three feet into the air, as Elsa's voice sounded from some unknown location. "You don't need to tell me anything, Kai. I'm right here."

* * *

"Huh? What?" Kai slapped his ears and shook his head furiously at the two boys. "Thanks to your tomfoolery, now I'm hearing things!"

"Down here!" Elsa's voice called out again. Jon lifted the hem of a tablecloth to reveal Elsa and Anna hiding underneath a round wooden table.

Robert's eyes widened in confusion. "Mama? Auntie Anna? What are you doing here?"

Kai bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, Jon and Robert have been acting up all night long. First they were sneaking through the servants' quarters, pelting us with snowballs while we were trying to sleep. Gerda and I were each hit about five times."

Anna shrugged offhandedly. "Actually, that was us. That's revenge for not letting us have ice cream after dinner."

Kai continued his tirade. "A couple minutes later I had _finally_ managed to fall asleep, when I was awoken by a bunch of fart noises and loud giggling. These boys kept me up all night! I'm no prude by any means, but there's a difference between sophomoric and downright inconsiderate!"

A guilty grin crept across Elsa's features. "You mean this?" She held up a strange icy contraption that vaguely resembled a bagpipe. Elsa blew into it, causing a deafening eruption of loud, squishy flatulent sounds. Anna burst into laughter.

"And now Jon and Robert are here to steal—

Elsa hastily interrupted, "There's nothing left to steal. Anna and I took care of that." She triumphantly held up an empty platter covered with cake crumbs and brown frosting. The Snow Queen emerged from her hiding place, covered from head to toe in chocolate, and took a bow.

Robbie gaped at his mother and aunt, his green eyes shining with indignation and betrayal. "Mama, how could you? We've been planning this for days!"

Elsa smirked playfully. "And we've been planning this since before you were born! Early bird gets the worm!"

Anna stuck her tongue out. "And the second bird gets the Kai."

Kai began sputtering incoherently, as the truth dawned upon him. His face reddened as he thrust an accusing finger at Elsa and Anna. "You… you…"

But just as suddenly as it flared, Kai's indignation subsided. His features softened, his eyes watered, and a strangled sob escaped from his throat. He reached out to pull them into a hug.

Anna was still nonplussed. "Wait, what? We're not in trouble?"

Tears of elation streamed from Kai's cheeks, as he spoke in a raspy whisper, locking eyes with each of the four royals. "For years I've hoped and prayed that this day would come, that you would all be together again as a family. And now here you are. It truly is a miracle."

"I've worked in this castle since before any of you were born. I watched as one tragedy after another threatened to tear this family apart. Time and time again, love prevailed over all. You've created a legacy of love, of resilience, of sacrifice, for the rest of Arendelle to follow. This family is the ultimate embodiment of all that is right in this world. That timeless creed that sums up the spirit of our nation. _Love will thaw. _Our people will speak of your names for thousands of years to come. I am honored to be a servant of this proud legacy, for three generations."

Elsa couldn't stop the tears from streaming as she spoke, embracing him tightly. "Kai, we've told you a million times. You are not our servant. You are a part of our family."

And truly the magic of family was the strongest magic of all, as five pairs of arms came together in a warm hug. There was no distinction between royalty and commoner, old and young, those who possessed wintry magic and those who did not. For they were one family, connected by the unbreakable bond of love that transcended all social boundaries and demarcations.

**Stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	34. Epilogue

_**A few months later…**_

Word of Weselton's treachery had spread far and wide throughout the continent. For many decades, the late Duke's unscrupulous behavior had always been viewed with contempt in the eyes of foreign dignitaries. But his kidnapping of Crown Prince Jon and attempted destruction of Arendelle had elicited hatred beyond all measure. Weselton instantly found itself on the receiving end of countless sanctions, losing every last one of its trade partners and military allies.

Not long after Jon's return to Arendelle, Weselton was struck by a scorching heat wave. Vast expanses of cropland withered in the heat, and fleet after fleet of fishing boats came back empty-handed. As the days flew by and emergency rations began running out, people began to starve. The new Duke, the eldest son of the deceased weasel, sent scores of envoys to Arendelle, pleading with Elsa for a sprinkle of snow to heal the dry, barren lands.

Elsa sat tight-lipped in her seat, astounded at the sheer audacity of this man. "Have you no shame? Do you even hear yourself? Do you even see how preposterous your request is? You want us to show the world that no matter what has been done against us, we will still cave in to emotional blackmail? Are you trying to make us an international laughingstock?"

The son of the late Duke grimaced. "Your Majesty, I plead with you to reconsider. There is absolutely no excuse for the way my father and his men have treated you over the past two decades. But I beg you to think about the plight of our people. Weselton's children go to bed hungry every night. They are innocent. They didn't choose their station in life. They too are innocent victims."

Elsa slammed her fists on the table. "If you cared about your people half as much as you're now pretending to, then maybe you shouldn't have built your entire nation upon a foundation of lies! Maybe you should have tried to cultivate strong diplomatic relations with other kingdoms, instead of alienating everyone like this! It's ironic that you're so concerned about Weselton's children going hungry, when you have no problem at all feeding their minds with lies and propaganda. You'd rather have the schools inculcate their brains with sensationalist bullcrap, instead of teaching actually important and marketable academic skills!"

"Last time I checked, having knowledge in the arts and sciences is far more employable than being able to recite _ten thousands reasons why Elsa Frostberg is an evil witch_. Is it any surprise that Weselton is decades behind in trade and technology? That no one wants to do business with you? That your economy is floundering, and that your students are the most poorly educated throughout the entire continent? Maybe you should have thought of those _poor innocent children_ before driving your kingdom into this cesspool!" The Snow Queen's pale complexion was flushed crimson from all her shouting.

The brown-haired, mustached man began to open his mouth, but Elsa silenced him with a wave of her hand. Her tone softened considerably, and a trace of genuine sympathy flickered in her eyes. "I could forgive you for all those times your father tried to assassinate me over the past twenty years. I could forgive you for all those times Weselton tried to steal from us. But nobody hurts my son, and gets away with it."

"Your Majesty, _please_. Have a heart!"

In the years past, Elsa had offered many times to reinstate trade with Weselton. Whenever a crisis arose, she never hesitated to send them emergency aid. But they never stopped trying to cheat at negotiations, and never stopped demonizing her as a wicked sorceress. The time for compassion and second chances had run dry. Now it was time to suffer the consequences.

So with a heavy heart and tears in her eyes, Elsa shook her head. "I'm sorry, but the answer is no. You crossed the line by kidnapping my son, and now you must pay the price."

* * *

Spring became summer, and the vicious heat wave showed no signs of relenting. In just the month of May, Weselton lost eighty percent of its annual harvest. Fishing stocks became depleted as well, and many were forced to rely on insects for sustenance. It was a pitiful, heartrending scene.

Smote to the heart, Elsa backed down on her ultimatum. The Queen of Arendelle, as brilliant as she may be, was easily undone by her soft heart. Moved to tears by images of emaciated children with bloated bellies, her compassion overrode her sense of fairness. Elsa wrote to Weselton, promising to deliver a shipment of emergency provisions. She would also send them flurry of her own creation, to alleviate the drought. In return, Weselton must rewrite their books and teach a truthful version of history. She required that the do away with all the extensive volumes of lies written about the Wicked Snow Queen.

Her stipulations were simple. "Feed their minds, and I will help you feed their bodies."

But the new Duke was too prideful to concede. After all, his entire dynasty had been built upon a foundation of lies, manipulating the public's fear of the unfamiliar as an instrument of power and indoctrination. And so the famine continued. For years Elsa's offer remained wide open, but the Duke's stubbornness and pride forbade him from accepting it. So millions continued to starve.

* * *

_**Seven Years Later…**_

Late one night, Elsa knelt by the window and beheld a bright star in the sky. Though she was now in her fiftieth year, Elsa still looked not a day over thirty. But her outer tranquility was misleading at best. - Tears welled in her cerulean eyes as she reminisced upon the past, upon the tumultuous journey that had finally culminated in peace. Together they had weathered so many storms, endured so much heartbreak, made so many sacrifices, laughed and cried, mourned and rejoiced, with the understanding that it was all part of the beautiful and mysterious thing called Life.

Without thinking, Elsa began talking alout to Fredrik. "Many years ago, a broke promise nearly destroyed our family. We learned the hard way how much damage a little bit of anger and pride can do. When we broke apart, we realized just how much we needed each other. If only you were here, Fredrik. You would be so proud of our boys. Hundreds of years from now, Robbie will be remembered as the most loving and selfless person this kingdom has ever seen, and Jon will go down in history as the greatest man to ever bear the Crown of Arendelle. And _that_ is one promise I know I can keep."

Tomorrow was Jon's twenty-fifth birthday. Elsa had decided to voluntarily step down from the throne on that day. She wanted to help guide him through the early years of his reign, to ensure a smooth transition. Jon would make a great king. His decision-making was sound, and his judgment impeccable. Elsa knew with all her heart that he would rule with a capable hand, continuing to guide Arendelle through its golden age of peace and prosperity.

Elsa reached under her bed to retrieve a posh-looking leatherbound box. She gently brushed away a fine coating of dust, and lifted the lid. There lay a magnificent chess set, crafted out of the finest Venetian glass. Each piece was made in the image of a member of Arendelle's royal family. A wave of nostalgia washed over Elsa, as she glanced to the empty E-1 square on her right. The White King's pedestal.

With a cryptic little smile, Elsa pulled open her dresser drawer to retrieve a little bundle of cloth. Her fingers moved with a reverent slowness as she peeled back the delicate silken layers, to reveal two small figurines carved out of sky-blue glass. One of Jon, and one of Robert. She planted a delicate kiss on each piece, and set them side by side down on the empty square. "No matter where you've been or what you've done, you boys will always have a place by my side, and more importantly, in my heart."

Tomorrow, Arendelle would crown another young monarch who wielded powers over ice and snow. But this time, fear and bigotry would not claim another victim.


End file.
